


Fabrefacation

by the_bright_eyed_demigirl



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Parkour, writes fic for a game that isn't even out yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bright_eyed_demigirl/pseuds/the_bright_eyed_demigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fabrefacation, noun: the act of fashioning or making a work of art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> Protag is named "Kaito Fukui" here... I'm sure you understand his first name. (And yes, I'm still working on Mariko Narukami... I have essays...)

It started innocently enough, with a crashing train (it was hijacked by a monster), a mask of power, and a cat that wasn’t a cat but sure had the stereotypical ego of one. Then it turned into some bizarre otherworldly heist featuring teenagers and said egotistical not-cat, and the next thing anyone knew, “The Phantom” was a household name.

Yusuke Kitagawa was not concerned with such things. Theft and burglary were not beautiful, so naturally, concern for them was entirely beneath him. The concept of a stolen heart had… some appeal, he admitted, but that was the most confession anyone would get out of him.

Besides, while the metaphor was beautiful, it really was just a metaphor. If it were a literal heart, well, that would be murder, and murder was definitely _not_ beautiful.

(One could wax eloquent on how this strange, strange boy apparently defined morality by beauty, but honestly, it was just a turn of phrase. There was nothing more to it.)

So it was that this household name stayed entirely out of Yusuke Kitagawa’s thought process until a fateful incident one dark night as he hurried home from a late night in the art rooms at his school.

The moon was bright, as were the stars, but they were dulled by the pollution that almost became natural in a big city. There were few people around, save Yusuke himself. That was how he liked it. There was something poetic about that, a sole figure in a darkened city…

Just as he was considering painting such a scene, all hell broke loose.

“ _Move, Takamaki!”_

_“No names, you bleach-blond genius! And I am moving! Or do you want my heel up your bony ass?!”_

_“My ass isn’t bony!”_

_“Be quiet, both of you!”_

A pair of mask-clad figures in strange costumes burst out of an alley into the night, breaking its stillness with their yells. One, a girl in a tight red suit; the other, a boy with the look of some nightmarish gangster. Yusuke froze in shock, totally unable to think of a proper reaction to this bizarre scene.

They darted across the narrow street and leapt impossibly high into the air, sailing up onto the roof of a nearby house and out of sight. Yusuke’s jaw dropped.

Shortly after, a tiny figure – was that a _cat?_ – appeared from the same alley and scaled the building even faster than the duo had, despite its smaller size. Yusuke decided that this was probably some kind of waking dream, and resolved to ignore it.

At least, that was the plan – then a fourth figure appeared. He moved more slowly than the others, and seemed to have far less care about whether he was seen. His face was obscured by a birdlike mask, his hair was dark, and he wore a long black coat and red gloves. What could be seen of his face was twisted into a smirk which was at once intensely irritating and astoundingly attractive.

Yusuke gasped. The figure turned with a snap to stare at him. He flicked his eyes up and down Yusuke’s frame, which was hidden in the shadow of the building he stood by.

“What’s going on…?” Yusuke asked. The figure laughed.

“A heist,” he replied plainly. “I’d be worried, but we lost the cops, and since you can’t even see my face, you’re not much of a witness. Really, those three needn’t have hurried so much…”

His smile was no longer a smirk, but a genuine, easy smile. Yusuke realised with a shock who he had to be speaking to.

“…The Phantom?”

He laughed again, obviously delighted by the recognition.

“Here’s some advice – get out of here in case the police do come by. I hate to cut this short, but I’d rather not take any chances… even for such a handsome voice.”

With that, he darted across the street after his accomplices and disappeared beyond the house. Yusuke stared after him, jaw still hanging open slightly. He shut it firmly. That was _not_ dignified. Or beautiful.

He took the Phantom’s advice and headed straight home after that. Well, it was Madarame’s home – he was merely a guest who’d stayed there for a very, very long time, and who would remain for quite some time. But he didn’t mind that part.

Of course he didn’t.

Madarame was not in when Yusuke got home. Fine; that was fine. Yusuke hadn’t expected him to be. He was a busy man, after all. The note on the table told Yusuke that his _sensei_ was indeed out, and would be for the next few days.

He picked up the TV remote and switched it on. The news was breaking that the Phantom Thieves of Heart had struck again, and while it seemed no hearts had been taken, there was still an awful lot missing, and the police – predictably – had no clue where they’d gone.

But – Yusuke knew. He’d spoken to the most famous criminal in Japan. And been called _handsome_ by him. That shouldn’t have distracted him so, but it did. This was a problem. More distracting, perhaps, had been that irritatingly handsome smile. Yusuke wasn’t unaware of his own preferences (in layman’s terms, he was gayer than Freddie Mercury riding a rainbow unicorn to Ansterdam), but this was new.

Something occurred to Yusuke. Surely, it was polite to return a compliment, but he had said nothing to the Phantom. He hadn’t had the moment, but surely – well – something had to be done, correct?

And if he couldn’t _find_ the Phantom – one teenager would not succeed where Japan’s finest had failed – well, he just needed an alternate plan…

\---

_To the Phantom, and the Thieves of Heart: Never, never, never give in!_

The bright blue words (repeated a dozen times at least) were found two days after the heist, in the very same alley that Yusuke Kitagawa had seen the mentioned thieves burst out of in the rush of their escape. They were found by a hungover student who’d taken a wrong turn while trying to get to class. She hadn’t been the one to call the police – instead, she’d taken a photograph and sent it by Snapchat to all of her friends, who had subsequently shown up to see for themselves.

A couple of hours later, that photograph was plastered on the media, as people speculated as to who could have painted the words. Who was this mysterious new character in the tale of the Phantom Thieves of Heart?

By the next day, it was splattered all over the papers, as no one had any clue who’d painted these words over and over again in one seemingly totally random alleyway.

And that – well.

That definitely got the attention that Yusuke had been looking for.

\--

“Well. This is new.”

Ann rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee. Sumikon was practically deserted, which suited the Phantom Thieves of Heart just fine. Ryuuji had stuck his feet up on the table, and Morgana was sitting on the newspaper which Kaito was trying to read.

“It’s _ridiculous,_ that’s what it is,” Ann said, setting her coffee down. “So weird, I don’t know _what_ to make of it.”

“Someone out there likes us,” Ryuuji said with a shark-toothed grin. “Someone with a whole lot of blue paint…”

Kaito nudged Morgana, but they refused to move.

“I’m _reading_ that.”

“So is the great Morgana!”

“Morgana,” Ann said, “how are you meant to read it if you’re _sitting_ on half the article?”

Morgana opened their mouth to reply, but paused. Kaito took advantage of the shapeshifter’s momentary distraction to pull the paper out from under them. Morgana hissed but said nothing.

“It says here,” he read, “that the police don’t have any clue who’s responsible, and there are no witnesses.”

“Clearly,” Morgana said, “our admirer knows what they’re doing.”

Ann shrugged. “Or they just got lucky.”

“Or that.”

“Very lucky,” Kaito said, setting the paper back down, “since this graffiti was found in one of the most crowded areas in Shibuya…”

“A master of stealth,” Ryuuji suggested, “like us!”

Ann snorted. “Ryuuji Sakamoto, you are _not_ a master of stealth. Do you not remember that wire trap from last week? How hard did you hit your head, exactly?”

“Uncalled for!”

“Lady Ann’s right,” Morgana observed. “Anyway, what are we going to do about our secret admirer?”

“Uh, nothing?” Ann’s expression was the epitome of _well, duh._ “It could be a trap. It’s not worth it.”

“Aren’t you curious, though?” Ryuuji waggled his eyebrows dramatically. “I mean, who _are_ they? Why are they risking arrest just to paint words of support to a bunch of criminals on a wall?”

“I don’t see any reason for us to intervene,” Kaito said pointedly, “save to present the law from catching up to them. We have bigger problems, and like Ann said, it could be a… oh _shit_ , is that the time?”

Without another word upon the topic of traps or admirers, Kaito sprang from his seat and bolted for the door. The coffee shop went dead silent without him. Ann and Ryuuji stared after him in total confusion. Morgana’s tail lashed.

“Listen, you two,” they said, “come look through the window and tell me I’m not wrong about this, it’s driving me up the wall…”

Morgana jumped down from the table in the guise of an ordinary cat and lead the other two over to the window. Kaito was sitting at one of the outdoor tables. Every couple of seconds, he raked his fingers through his hair, or adjusted his glasses. His foot tapped incessantly under the table. In short, he was trying to act casual, and failing miserably.

The reason for Kaito’s uncharacteristic nervousness readily became apparent. A stunningly handsome teenage boy walked past. He wore a smart white _gakuran_ , his blue hair was brushed delicately over his left eye, and under his arm was a canvas. He walked straight past Kaito, who stared after him like a lost puppy until he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Kaito sighed deeply and stared forlornly in the direction the blue-haired boy had gone.

“Oh, my god,” Ann said, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, “he’s got a _crush_!”

“I thought so! The great Morgana is never wrong! But every time I mention it, he denies it ‘till the demons come home!”

“Well, you can see why,” Ryuuji said through a laugh. “That’s gotta be one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever – shit, he’s coming back!”

Not a second later, Kaito stepped back into the coffee shop, face still lightly dusted with pink. This pink turned neon red the moment he saw his accomplices.

“You were _watching_?!”

“Ahh, young love,” Ryuuji crowed. “I mean, he _is_ pretty cute…”

“ _It’s not like that!_ ”

“Dude, it’s 2016. No one gives a shit about you being gay.”

“Well,” Ann said, “ _we_ don’t give a shit. But who is he?”

Kaito’s blush deepened further. “I don’t know.”

The quartet of thieves returned to their table. Kaito took a deep gulp of his coffee before explaining.

“I first saw him a couple of weeks after moving here. Every school day at five-thirty pm, he walks past Sumikon. It’s like clockwork. I don’t know his name, or where he lives, but I know that he always comes this way. So whenever I have the chance, I sit outside and watch him go past.”

“Have you ever said anything to him?” Ann asked after another sip of coffee.

“Nope,” Morgana answered. Kaito pushed them off the table.

“I – I never know what to say,” he confessed.

Ryuuji burst out laughing.

“So, hold on – the guy who makes dramatic speeches about ‘emancipation’ and the evils of modern society like it’s going out of style can’t figure out how to talk to a pretty boy?”

“Pretty much.” Kaito was glaring daggers at Ryuuji.

“Well, you’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t say _something,_ ” Morgana grumbled as they climbed back up onto the table. “Really, humans make everything so complicated. Especially this sort of thing. It’s like you want your species to die out!”

“Well,” Ann said thoughtfully, pointedly ignoring Morgana, “that’s the Kosei uniform, right?”

“Kosei?”

“Oh, right, you’re new around here. It’s a really good school. Basically the opposite of Shujin.”

“Oh. So I suppose he must be far out of the league of mild-mannered kid delinquent Kaito Fukui?”

Ryuuji winced. “Sorry, dude…”

“That’s what I was afraid of…”

 


	2. Infatuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke makes a slip-up and Kaito gets a clue.

_Are they on the road to glory or ruin?_

_Regardless: never give in!_

The second message to the Phantom Thieves of Heart was found a week after the first, a few days after the speculation about the mysterious artist and their ties or lack thereof to the thieves had died down.

This time, however, it wasn’t found by a student. It was found by an off-duty police detective, who’d heard a strange noise coming from a nearby alley and gone to investigate. It was not the same alley as the first message had been in, and the paint was far, far fresher. So fresh, in fact, that the detective immediately realised that the culprit was still on the scene and set about searching for him.

In the end, Yusuke got away, heart pounding in his chest. He nearly slammed the door of the house behind him, so frantic was he to escape the forces of justice. (Justice. Pah.)

Yusuke tiptoed to his room and closed its door safely behind himself. He let out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and willed his heart to stop racing. Several minutes later, it finally did. Yusuke shoved the supplies he’d used under his bed and stripped to sleep. Hmm – a dash of red paint on his hands. No matter, it wasn’t evidence that could be used against him. He was an art student, of course he had paint on his hands.

(Red – that had been a much better choice than the blue. More striking.)

Yusuke lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Despite the danger he’d just placed himself in, that had been exhilarating. He dimly recalled the smile of the Phantom on the run from a heist.

Well, he could see the appeal of a life of crime, now. Dangerous, but fun.

He was never going to do that again.

(A lie.)

\--

“You know, Kaito,” said Ryuuji over the din of the Shujin dining hall, “I figured you’d have taken offence to the whole ruin thing.”

Ann laughed.

“How DARE he impugn the honour of the great Phantom, master of hearts?”

It was a pitch-perfect imitation of her leader, who grimaced. Truth be told, he had been a little insulted, but all thoughts of protesting had been pushed out of his mind by the image of two small girls and a long-nosed man. Say what you would about the Velvet Room, but they knew how to lay on the guilt trip. And the cryptic musings on the potential of doom.

(He wouldn’t complain, though, because the Wild Card was totally worth the hassle.)

“I… have more pressing concerns,” he said. “For instance, who’s doing this?”

Ryuuji shrugged.

“Someone with a paintbrush? I dunno. Oh hey, what if they’re a Persona-user?”

“Interesting idea,” Morgana said from the muffled confines of Kaito’s bag. “Probably not, though. I think I would have heard about it if there was another Persona-user in this area. That, or they’re a master of stealth.”

“Told you!”

Ann smacked Ryuuji around the head. He flicked a bit of pasta at her.

“So, probably not a Persona-user,” Kaito said quickly before this could turn into an actual fight and they all got thrown in detention when they were meant to be plotting heists. “Perhaps they’re someone we’ve inspired?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of stuff like that,” Ann said, picking the pasta out of her hair. “People seem to look up to us, although no one’s really willing to admit it publically.”

“We have a motive, then,” Morgana said. “But who is it? And why would they look up to us? And can someone please pass me a chicken nugget?”

Kaito slipped a nugget into his bag, where it was swiftly devoured.

“I don’t know,” he answered as Morgana munched, “but I’m flattered…”

\--

A few days later, Kaito was sitting outside Sumikon, sipping coffee and trying to make himself look perfectly natural. He adjusted his glasses for the fifteenth time in three minutes and looked down the road to where the blue-haired boy would usually appear. Usually. This time, he was several minutes late.

 _Maybe he got held back after school,_ Kaito thought. It was wholly possible, and plausible, but then how long would Kaito be waiting out here for him? He was a busy man, he had things to do, people to see, valuables to steal. Not to mention the Palace had been acting up a lot lately. It seemed likely that a corrupted heart was causing problems again.

A few more minutes passed. Kaito finished his coffee and cleaned all the dirt off his nails. No sign of the boy.

A thought occurred to Kaito – perhaps something had happened? Perhaps some demon had poked its head into the world and targeted the blue-haired boy. If that was the case, clearly Kaito would need to rescue him. Yes, he would, wouldn’t he? No point bringing the others – there wouldn’t be the time to contact them, obviously – and so he’d go alone, a lone wolf swooping in to rescue a dashing young man…

Kaito slipped so far into this daydream that he nearly missed the blue-haired boy’s appearance. He appeared across the street, coming out of a rarely-used alley. The sun shimmered beautifully on his blue hair, on his delicate face, on the flecks of red paint on his hands…

He crossed the road hurriedly, looking around for anyone watching. Since he missed Kaito, he couldn’t have done it well. His face was pale, and he was gripping a bag of art supplies like it was a lifeline.

Something _was_ wrong. Kaito could hear the alarm bells ringing in his head. As the boy approached, he floundered for something to say –

“Are you okay?”

Damn! He’d blurted it out and nearly frightened the poor boy half to death. _Smooth, Fukui. Smooth._

“I – yes,” the boy said, and though his voice was breathy it was certainly the voice of an angel. “Why do you…?”

“You don’t look well,” Kaito said. “A little pale…”

“I’m fine, thank you,” the boy said, slightly irritably. Without waiting for further conversation, he practically ran off into the distance. Kaito stared after him for a moment, mind full of a silent, embarrassed scream. He’d fucked that up, hadn’t he?

Although…

 _Red paint._ It was just a hunch, and one which Kaito couldn’t believe was even remotely plausible. He waited until the blue-haired boy was long gone. When he was sure he wouldn’t be interrupted by the new prime suspect, he got up, crossed the street, and went into the alley.

Kaito stared at the walls for some time. The words were fresh – a single touch of the sparkling red was enough to tell him that. _Red._ Why had he changed colour? Who knew? It didn’t matter, now, not when Kaito was staring at…

He took a deep breath, and called Ann.

“What is it?”

“Ann, do you think I’m cursed?”

“Um… what?”

“Or is this more of a blessing?”

“Stop being cryptic and get to the fucking point before I hang up.”

“You know the boy who comes by the café?”

“Oh, yeah, your crush? Did you manage to talk to him?”

“Sort of. He’s our mystery admirer.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“You’re _joking._ ”

“Nope. It’s him. I’m staring at the proof right now.”

“Oh, my _god,_ this is _not happening._ What were the odds of _that?_ ”

“I have no idea. I’m going to hang up and call the police about another mysterious message now. I need my alibi, you see.”

“Sure. Just wondering, what does it say?”

“ _For justice’s sake, never give in!_ ”

“Wow. He’s a broken record, isn’t he?”

Kaito hung up, then immediately dialled for the police. As he tapped in the numbers, he tried to clear his head. This – well, this could be an excuse to talk to him. Or it could get them both in a lot of trouble. But it would probably be worth it. Right?


	3. Accomplices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito investigates his admirer, with some help. Depending on how you define help. Meanwhile, Morgana humiliates Yusuke in front of his crush, and he doesn't even know it.

“It’s not _that_ funny.”

Ryuuji, who had slipped off Kaito’s desk chair and onto the floor from laughing so hard, plainly disagreed. Ann had her hand clapped over her mouth, supressing giggles. Morgana was yowling with laughter from their spot on top of the TV.

“I hate all three of you.” Kaito’s face was neon red. “Really, I make you privy to the achings of my heart, and this is how you respond?”

“Oh, stop being such a drama king,” Ryuuji said, picking himself up, “it’s just amazing how your luck works out.”

“And the only reason you even care that you know our admirer’s identity,” Morgana added, “is because you admire him back. If you want wingmen, you’re going to have to accept some mockery!”

Kaito said nothing in return. He crossed his arms and waited for the last gales of laughter to die down, then made his case.

“Look. We wanted to know what was going on here. I seriously doubt he knows that I’m the Phantom. He might have realised that I’d spotted the paint specks, but since he’s a painter I doubt he’ll make much of that. So, why don’t we work out what his angle is? Because if it is a trick to trap us, we at least have the advantage and can humiliate the authorities somehow.”

“Ooh, humiliating the authorities sounds fun,” Morgana said. “I like this plan.”

“I see a small problem here,” Ann said. “What’s his _name?_ Where does he live? We don’t know anything about him except what school he goes to!”

“Can we get into the Kosei school records somehow?” Ryuuji suggested.

Kaito smiled his most dangerous smile.

“I’ve got a better idea…”

\--

“ _Mrow._ ”

Yusuke looked down. There was a cat by his feet. It was a little black-and-white cat, very sweet indeed, and for some reason the thing had been following him since he’d left school. It had a collar – red – which meant that someone owned it. And yet it was following _him._

“What do you want, kitty?” he asked it. It rubbed against his leg and meowed. “You have an owner, I can see that collar, and I don’t have any food to give you.”

The cat wandered ahead of him and meowed for him to follow. They were now within sight of Madarame’s home, and it looked like the cat was going to follow him the entire way there. It was totally bizarre.

“I’m not allowed a cat, and you _have_ an owner!”

The front door opened as Yusuke walked up to it, cat in tow. Madarame looked at Yusuke, then at the cat, and then back at Yusuke.

“Is that cat following you, Kitagawa?”

“Apparently, Madarame-sensei,” Yusuke replied. “It’s got a collar, but it seems to like me. It’s followed me all the way from school.”

“Hm.” Madarame eyed the cat, which made big eyes at him and meowed pitifully. “Well, we may as well call the owner to tell them where their cat it. You’ve walked quite some distance, it’s probably very far from home. Contact details should be on the collar…”

Madarame stepped back into the house, motioning for Yusuke to follow. Yusuke did so, and the cat followed, nose twitching curiously. After setting his bags down, Yusuke got out some chicken and fed it to the cat, which devoured it gratefully. Madarame picked it up and looked at the collar.

“Odd,” he said, “the name’s on here – ‘Morgana’ – but no phone details of the owner. A tad bit irresponsible – ah!”

The cat launched itself out of Madarame’s hands and went straight up the stairs, almost bowling into Yusuke as it went. Yusuke stared after it for a moment, then ran up the stairs after it. Morgana had, in explicably, burst into his room. It was looking around at his paintings curiously. No, what? It was probably just confused by the strange smells…

Then it darted under his wardrobe and seemed to start rummaging around. Yusuke made a strangled cry and dropped down to pull it out again. When he retrieved Morgana, it had grabbed a piece of paper in its mouth and was not letting go. Yusuke tried to take the paper off it, but that made him lose his grip. Morgana wriggled away, jumped out his window, and vanished.

Yusuke tried to understand what had just happened.

“Kitagawa,” said Madarame, stepping into the room, “where is it?”

“It just jumped out the window with one of my paper sketches,” Yusuke replied. “It stole my art.”

“…Well, then.” Madarame was clearly amused. “Nothing important, I hope?”

“I don’t think so…” Yusuke reached under the wardrobe and retrieved the sketchbook that the paper had been taken from. He flicked through it… “Ah, no, it doesn’t appear so. Just… just some concept work.”

Thankfully, Madarame could not see his face. Yusuke was aghast at what the cat had taken, but didn’t dare show his sensei what it was. Better to let him think it was nothing important at all.

\--

“The Great Morgana returns! And you’ve missed the secret door. Sloppy.”

Kaito paused his game and turned to see Morgana sitting on the windowsill, triumphantly holding a piece of paper that was almost as big as they were.

“Awesome. The rest of your pay is in the microwave.”

Morgana set the paper down on the sill and darted over to the microwave, from whence they retrieved a plate of still-warm chicken nuggets. Within a couple of minutes, they had messily devoured the whole lot.

“Mmmm, pleasure doing business with you. Now, to my end of the deal.” THey put the plate back and hopped up on the chair next to Kaito. “His family name is Kitagawa, and he lives with a guy called Madarame. Nice place they have. Nicer chicken than you have, too. Anyway, his room was full of paintings. Really good ones, too. I’d steal them.”

“And we all know how high _your_ standards are,” Kaito mused. “They’re probably well-off, then. I wonder where Kitagawa-kun’s parents are?”

“Thought the same thing myself.”

“And, what’s his motive?” Kaito shook his head. “I don’t get it. Well-off, some sort of artistic prodigy by your account…”

“Oh, I’ve got that worked out,” Morgana said. “Look at the paper.”

Kaito turned and took the paper, turning it over. He went a very deep shade of red. It appeared to be a carefully-drawn and coloured manga page. The first panel, a dramatic city skyline, two figures standing before it. Second panel, a close-up upon the face of the Phantom, hand outstretched – _“Come with me if you want to be free.”_ The third was Kitagawa, a blush upon his cheeks – “ _Kaito-sama…”_

Kaito groaned. “Self-insert manga. I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, right? Embarrassing! You two are a perfect pair of awkward fools trying to make yourselves look more refined than you actually are. A match made in heaven!”

Kaito threw a cushion at Morgana, who dodged, laughing, and sprang up on top of a nearby bookshelf. The leader of the thieves looked back at his admirer’s work, willing the red to recede from his cheeks. This was, without a doubt, the single strangest romantic situation he’d ever been in.

“If it’s a trap,” he argued later to Ann and Ryuuji the next day, “it is a very, very complicated and over-the-top one. I think Kitagawa is entirely serious.”

“Self-insert manga!” Ryuuji shook his head, laughing. “Man, this has gotta be for real. The cops wouldn’t think of that.”

“Well, I found ‘Madarame-sensei’,” Ann added from her position at Kaito’s computer desk. The other three thieves came over to look. “Pretty famous painter. When I checked his Wikipedia, guess what? He’s got an apprentice named Yusuke Kitagawa – an orphaned prodigy. No photos, but it all adds up.”

“So,” Ryuuji said, “what do we do? We know where he lives, we know his name, we know his motive… The hell are we gonna do about it?”

“Play wingmen, duh,” Ann said. “Right? I mean, I wasn’t expecting _any_ of us to get laid out of this phantom thief nonsense, but like I’m gonna cockblock when it’s not me.”

Kaito was about to reply with some sarcastic thanks – then hesitated. He picked the manga page back up and looked at it carefully.

“…No.”

Morgana fell off the desk in surprise. Ryuuji and Ann’s jaws dropped.

“Dude, _what?_ ”

“I’m going to tell him to stop,” Kaito said. There was a lump in his throat, which he ignored. “If it got out that this genius painter was the most diehard supporter of a notorious criminal gang, his reputation would be ruined. This guy has his life absolutely made for him. A bright future. He doesn’t need to throw it away for a _crush_ on someone he’s _never met._ ”

Morgana leapt back up onto the desk.

“That… is the single most mature thing I’ve ever heard any of you kids say,” she said. “Wow.”

“Dude, I don’t know what to say,” Ryuuji added. “That’s just…”

“The last thing you expected?” Ann shook her head. “He’s cockblocking _himself_.”

“I am, of course, a _gentleman_ thief,” Kaito said, stepping back into character. “It wouldn’t do for me to allow someone to ruin themselves for my sake.”

“Aaaand there we go,” Morgana said. “All right. How do we get him to stop?”

Ann opened up a word processing program on Kaito’s computer.

“Simple. Write him a letter, we know where he lives and his route home, it’d be easy to deliver.”

“I agree,” Kaito said. “But we’ll have to handle it delicately. Let him down gently, so to speak…”

Ann started typing. “ _To Mr Yusuke Kitagawa…”_

“’I, the great Phantom,’” Ryuuji began, cracking a sharp grin, “’am flattered by your’, uh….”

“’Attentions’?” Morgana suggested. “Ooh, no, ‘affections’! Makes it seem like Kaito knows everything. When, actually, he relies on me stealing test answers to not fail at school.”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Kaito said crossly. “All right, ‘I, the Great Phantom, am flattered by your affections, and deeply humbled the support of one as’, uh, ‘brilliant as you.’ How’s that sound?”

Ann tapped it in quickly.

“Now what?” Kaito chewed his lip.

“’However,’” Ryuuji continued, “’do not throw your life away for one as damned as I!’ Come on, that’s what you were saying, right? ‘My path is set, as is yours…’ shit, I lost it.”

“’Never should the two have met!’” Ann typed it all in without waiting for any confirmation from Kaito. “Sounds good so far. Hmmm…”

“’It would be a tragedy,’” Morgana said, “’if a face and name as glittering as yours were to be tarnished by association with my blackened reputation.’”

“Now, hold on,” Kaito said, “that sounds like I’m hitting on him! Oh, you’re all useless!”

The other three burst into barely-restrained laughter.

“You said we were letting him down gently,” Ann said as she continued typing, “so that’s what we’re doing! ‘Therefore, I humbly ask that you turn your brushes to your great works, not any longer to alleyways.’”

Kaito pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Let’s put it on a calling card and hand it to him.”

\--

Kaito would be lying if he said he felt happy about this. He stood outside Sumikon in the sun, pretending to clean a table. He’d even borrowed an apron from the shop to make it look convincing. In the pocket of the apron was a sealed envelope, and within that was the letter for –

Ah, there he was! Yusuke Kitagawa had appeared as he always did. Kaito supposed he’d have to stop waiting for Yusuke now. That was a shame.

“Hey, are you Yusuke Kitagawa?” he called, standing up straight. Yusuke stopped.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s just that,” Kaito reached into his apron pocket and took the letter out, “someone dropped this off for you, gave me a description of you. Didn’t catch their name, sorry.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Yusuke smiled and took the envelope. He peeled it open, and took out the bright red letter within. His eyes scanned across it quickly, cheeks turning slightly red as he did so. Then, he folded the letter up again, put it back into the envelope, and tucked it in one pocket.

“Did you see who gave you the letter?” Yusuke asked.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t see their face. It’s a bit dark in the café sometimes, and they had a hat and a surgical mask on. I thought it was odd, but they tipped well so I didn’t ask. Sorry.”

“Well, in that case.” Yusuke put his bags down and took out a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly wrote a note, folded it up, and handed it to Kaito. “If that strange individual comes back, give them this for me, please. And please don’t read it.”

Kaito took the note. “Sure, I can do that. What’s this about, anyway? Some kind of love letter?”

Yusuke slung his bags back over his shoulder and grinned.

“You know, I think it might be. Goodbye.”

With that, he walked off. A horrible weight had dropped into the pit of Kaito’s stomach. He waited until Yusuke was out of sight, then opened the note.

_To the Phantom,_

_I’m flattered that you care so much, but believe me, a glittering face and name count for nothing any more. I’m going down anyway. You’ve shown me that it’s possible to do such a thing beautifully, which is all I care about any more._

_Thank you,_

Kaito groaned. What the hell was _this_ all about?!


	4. Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito hits on Plan B for stopping Yusuke from getting himself arrested.

Yusuke chewed his lip as he reread the Phantom’s letter. A number of questions ran through his mind. Firstly, how had the Phantom figured out who he was? Secondly, why was the Phantom so fixed on making sure he didn’t continue?

And thirdly, was the Phantom hitting on him?

Yusuke’s blush intensified at the thought of this being some strange flirtation. A glittering face, eh? And the Phantom seemed to enjoy the attention…

Part of Yusuke considered giving it up. But for the fifth time that day, he reminded himself that he’d already declared – foolishly, impulsively – that he wouldn’t. Pride demanded he not back out now, regardless of the Phantom’s apparent concern for his well-being and reputation.

Besides…

Yusuke sat up, and looked at his latest painting for school. If one could call it his. It was devoid of life. Again and again, they beat the techniques into him, beat into him what he should be painting, how to paint it, and while that had its point, god, god he was so _tired_ of it! His brush was like lead, his paints just as poisoned – what was the purpose of him, if the thing that had bought him security was failing on him?

And yet, somehow, he’d managed to produce seven chapters of a scribbly, self-insert doujin in the brief period since he’d met the Phantom on a dark street.

That was a point. Had the Phantom remembered him? He didn’t dare hope, but…

There was nothing for it now. ‘Want emancipation?’ Yes, and if the Phantom of all people was going to tell him not to want it because of some strange affection, then Yusuke was just going to have to prove his point the hard way.

And although it was a long shot, if the Phantom did feel this strange affection…

Well. Yusuke was a romantic, wasn’t he?

\--

_We will be free! Never give in!_

This time, the words had been joined by a rather large and ornate heart.

“Fuck,” Kaito said in the comfort of his chair in Sumikon. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“How does it go… _caaan you feel the loooove tonight…?_ ”

“Morgana, you can’t sing!” Kaito crossed his arms, staring at the note and newspaper on the table. “I thought I’d be happy about Kitagawa-san having some sort of crush on me! But, this is… he’s going to get himself arrested.”

“Mm.” Ann re-read Yusuke’s note. “I think we should be more worried about the fact that he thinks he’s about to lose everything…”

“Humans do desperate things when they’re desperate,” Morgana said. “You like to cry for help, without realising it makes the predators hear you too. It’s a gamble.”

Ryuuji looked at her blankly.

“Sigh. Kitagawa’s got a problem, and he’s using this as an outlet for his frustration and fear. Unfortunately for him, it’s also putting him in more trouble – with the _law._ ”

“I looked it up,” Ann said, “and didn’t find any hints of any trouble with him…”

“So what we need to do to stop him getting arrested is to figure out what’s wrong,” Ryuuji said. “Any ideas? ‘Cause I’m drawing a blank.”

“Oh,” Kaito said, a smirk appearing on his lips, “ _I’ve_ got an idea…”

\--

Yusuke stared at the front door of Sumikon.

He was not in the habit of hanging around cafes. He was usually far too busy to take a moment, but hell, it wasn’t the only rule he’d broken lately. He could be a bit late. Yes, he’d claim he was looking for ‘inspiration’.

(Somewhat true. If the Phantom made another appearance at Sumikon, Yusuke wanted to take the chance of seeing him.)

Yusuke pushed the door open, the bell over the door ringing as he did so. There were a few people in the mostly brown café. Some sat in pairs, sipping coffee and gossiping. A couple of people sat alone, reading things on paper or screens.

Yusuke stepped up to the counter and ordered a plain black coffee. Usually, he drank tea, but somehow getting a coffee here felt more natural. He took it to a spare, quiet table in the corner, sat back, and immediately realised that it was unlikely the Phantom would make an appearance.

Well, he’d known that from the start, but now he just felt silly for trying. At least he’d gotten a drink out of it? Yusuke sipped the coffee and immediately wrinkled his nose at the taste. He took another sip and decided he didn’t mind it.

“Hey, it’s love letter boy.”

Yusuke looked up to see that the café employee from a few days prior had appeared to him. He wasn’t wearing an apron, this time – instead, he had on a school uniform. _Shujin’s_ uniform. Oh, that was a school he’d heard of… but this was not the time to be rude.

“Hello,” Yusuke said. “Not working today?”

“Well, no.” The boy laughed. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice…. You look slightly down. Is there a problem?”

Yusuke hesitated – and then – oh, to hell with it. This was the least offensive person he’d ever met. This boy seemed like he would burst into tears at the slightest thing that went wrong. Those huge eyes and babyish curls belonged on some rough-and-tumble five-year-old.

“Yes, to be honest,” Yusuke said.

“Anything I can help with? I can just listen, if that helps – though, if you don’t want me to…”

“I’d like someone to listen.”

The boy say down in the chair across from Yusuke.

“I’m Kaito Fukui, by the way,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Kitagawa-san. So, what’s wrong…?”

Yusuke took a deep sip of his coffee before beginning.

“I’m an artist,” he began, “well, an artist-in-training. I live with a master painter, who took me in after my mother’s death because I showed talent. But, lately, I’ve been having… problems with my work.”

“Artist’s block?”

“This is worse.” Yusuke pulled a face. “I have no inspiration, any more, except for one thing that isn’t exactly approved of. I can’t make anything from that inspiration, because if I do… it wouldn’t be very popular. At all. But it’s all I can make with any heart at all.”

“I see,” Fukui said. “Have you made anything based on this?”

Yusuke thought of his alleyway messages. He thought of his manga, and of the few paintings he’d dared to make and squirrel away somewhere where no one would ask any questions about them.

“…Yes.”

“That sucks,” Fukui said. “I think everyone does things, or wants to do things, that we think everyone else would disagree with. Sometimes those are genuinely bad things, but sometimes it’s just because society has an idea of what’s ‘acceptable’, and a lot of perfectly normal and natural things fall outside of that. It’s a shame you’ve been caught by the bad end of that.”

Yusuke was struck by this. Fukui had articulated exactly what he’d been thinking, and he’d done it while wearing the uniform of the most notoriously trouble-ridden school in the entirety of Shibuya.

“I suppose you’re right,” Yusuke said. “I – I feel like there’s one person who’d understand, but…”

“Oh, the person who sent you that letter?”

“Yes. Did you send my note back?”

“Yeah, they dropped in a bit later. I’m still not sure what they looked like, sorry, but I guess you must know them?”

“We’ve… met. Once.”

Surprise flittered briefly over Fukui’s face. It vanished, and was replaced once more by a plain, calm expression. Totally inoffensive.

“You… got a love letter from someone you’ve met _once_?”

“It wasn’t exactly a love letter,” Yusuke said, “though it had enough elements of one to count. We’ve been in contact through other means, but we’ve not met face-to-face since that day.”

Fukui mulled this over for a moment.

“How much trouble will you get in if you make this art?”

“Uh, that depends.”

“On what?”

“I might just lose all respect anyone has for me,” Yusuke explained, “or if I really mess this up, I could be arrested.”

Fukui swallowed loudly.

“But I don’t want to stop. I feel like this is all I have left. I’ve been in a rut for so long, I don’t want to let go of this one piece of inspiration I have left.”

“It’s that important to you, huh?”

“Without art, I wouldn’t have a roof over my mouth.” Yusuke took a deep drink of his coffee, noticed the curious look upon Kaito’s face, and explained. “My mother died when I was young. Madarame-sensei – a famous painter, I don’t know if you’re heard of him – took me in because of my skill.”

“I see.” Kaito sighed. “Man, that sucks. You like the coffee?”

“Yes, actually,” Yusuke said, a smile creeping onto his otherwise forlorn face, “it’s rather good.”

“Well… you ever want any more, we close pretty late. And if you need anyone to talk to about, you know, things… I literally live upstairs.”

“Perhaps I’ll take you up on that, thank you.”

\--

Over the next two weeks, Kaito learnt many things about his mystery admirer.

Firstly, Yusuke Kitagawa did not make a habit of drinking coffee. Or, at least, he hadn’t before coming to Sumikon. As a result, he wasn’t sure what kind of coffee he actually liked, and drank a different kind every time Kaito saw him.

Secondly, he really _was_ in a rut. Kaito would see him take out his sketchbook, scribble for a moment, then turn the page and start again, _ad infinitum._ Sometimes, Kaito would come up to him and see him doing a little better – but Yusuke would always flip the page over the moment he noticed that Kaito was there.

Thirdly, he was rather stuck-up. Kaito supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised by this, but Yusuke was a stickler for quality in everything. He loved finery and beauty, and was often not impressed by some of Sumikon’s patrons. The two spent many a merry time quietly critiquing the fashion choices of the other patrons, and they were not kind about it.

Fourthly, he was even more handsome up close than he was from a distance.

Fifthly, the plan wasn’t working.

In theory, it was simple: give Kitagawa a way to vent that wouldn’t get him arrested, and in the meantime maybe change the object of his affections. Unfortunately, since that first day, Yusuke hadn’t mentioned his art block once, and a message had been painted just three days after that meeting.

Two weeks, of course, was not enough time for someone to fall in love, but Yusuke had developed powerful feelings after apparently just meeting the Phantom once – an incident that Kaito, try as he might, could not recall for himself. It made sense that Yusuke, being so enamoured with beautiful things, would have a fleeting heart that attached itself quickly to anything particularly inspirational. But while the figure of the Phantom was inspirationally beautiful, sixteen-year-old delinquent Kaito Fukui was apparently not.

“And therein,” Morgana said one night, puffing on a cigar, “lies your problem, kiddo. The sweet and innocent act works for getting you out of trouble. Doesn’t make you very handsome, though.”

Kaito was sitting on the other side of the room to avoid the smoke, trying – and failing – to beat the last level on his newest game. It was a miracle he’d gotten that far, to be honest.

“I believe Ryuji called this ‘friendzoning’,” Morgana continued.

“I’m fine with being his _friend_ ,” Kaito said as his character died again, “it’s just annoying that he actually _does_ have feelings for me and I can’t let him join the dots. I mean, what’s the point of being a gentleman if I can’t sweep the object of my affections off of his feet?”

“Look on the bright side, Kaito,” Morgana said, “at least he’s not straight.”

“Oh, god, don’t even.”

A loud crash outside drew Kaito’s attention away from the game and the topic of his romantic failures. He went up to the open window and looked out, waving smoke away from his face. A group of Kaito’s upperclassmen were hanging around the back of Sumikon, yelling and drinking. Kaito snorted. Gangster wannabes. He was ashamed to go to the same school as them.

He was about to turn back to his game, when one of the gangster wannabes nudged the apparent leader and pointed down the alley. Kaito peered in that direction, and saw – Yusuke! What was he doing out this late…?

Kaito squinted, then his eyes widened. Yusuke was carrying a rough bag of art supplies, not the fancy one he’d always brought to the café. The guys were talking quietly amongst themselves… one of them had a knife!

“Shit,” he said, “shit, they’re going to mug him or catch him in the act, one of the two!”

“Oh, dear,” Morgana said. “A pretty rich boy like that? No chance, not this late at night in this part of town… and of course, no one knows he’s there.”

The gangsters had moved and started following Yusuke down the street. He hadn’t noticed them.

But Kaito had.

Kaito reached into his pocket and took out the black-and-white mask that was the source of his Persona power. It hummed lightly to his touch.

Morgana laughed.

“Go on, go be a gentleman. You want a wingman, or should I stay behind…?”

Kaito grinned.

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. Well, about me. _They_ , on the other hand, are about to have a very bad night…”


	5. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the moment you've all been waiting for, folks!

Kaito climbed out of his bedroom window and slid onto the ground floor’s roof. He slipped quietly down it and dropped into the alleyway, feet thumping when they hit the ground. Pause. Wait. Did anyone hear him? No one had come, so either no one heard or no one cared. Perfect.

He glanced up and down the alleyway, then took off his glasses, folded them neatly, and placed them into his jacket pocket. Then, he put the mask on his face –

_and pulled._

There really was nothing else like it. The pain of tearing his face lasted only for an instant, then it was overwhelmed by the bizarre sensation of everything he was turning inside out and remaking itself. His nervous system simply didn’t know how to process any of it, so it felt like a mild tingling, a sense of weightlessness, and then –

 _Power._ Power like nothing else. Over time, he’d noticed that his Phantom self was fitter, stronger and faster than his everyday self. His Personae melded his body into a form that could keep up with the strain of facing demons and shadows. The others had noticed it too.

And with that power came a new sense of self. This, yes, this was _freedom._ It never ceased to make a shiver run down his spine. He was the Phantom, the master of hearts, the greatest thief to ever live.

Like _hell_ were a bunch of half-rate punks going to mug his crush!

Kaito darted forwards and leapt onto the side of the building next door, scaling it before the people inside ever had the chance to look out of the window. He swung himself onto the roof and bent low, glancing down the streets. The wannabe gangsters had a lead on him, and Yusuke had a lead on them.

In seconds, Kaito had caught up, trailing quietly behind them. They at least had the smarts to hang back, waiting until Yusuke wasn’t in a residential area to make their move. Yusuke hadn’t spotted them, despite regular checks to make sure no one was following him. Every time he looked back, they’d step out of the way. _Sloppy,_ Kaito thought.

Fifteen minutes later, Yusuke had reached his destination – a small alleyway between a closed-down club and an office building. No one was at either at this time of night. No witnesses. Good for Kaito, bad for the punks.

Yusuke crossed the street and went into the alley. The punks followed. Kaito waited a moment so they wouldn’t see him coming, then silently dropped off the roof and onto the street below.

\--

“Hey, what’cha doing?”

Yusuke span around. Five large teenage boys in rough clothing were blocking the way that Yusuke had come. One of them – presumably the leader – was holding a knife. All Yusuke had was a paintbrush dipped in red paint.

“Taking a shortcut,” Yusuke lied, heart pounding in his ears.

“With a paintbrush?”

The boy who said it was congratulated for pointing out the obvious with laughter from his friends.

“Red paint, too,” he continued. “Nah, boys, it can’t be.”

“Can’t be what?” The second-biggest boy was pulling a face.

“You reckon this is that phantom painter guy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yusuke said.

“Don’t play with us, pretty boy,” said the leader. He stepped forwards, hand still gripping the knife tightly. “I think we just won the jackpot. Hand over all your valuables, and maybe we won’t tell the cops.”

“I don’t have anything on me.”

Not a lie, as it so happened. No money, because of potential mugging in dark alleys. No keys – he’d left them under a pot by the front door. No phone, because all phones these days had GPS, and the risk wasn’t worth it. Who knew what the police would try, if they got suspicious of him?

“All right, let me rephrase that.” The leader stepped forwards again, his gang following him. “Either you hand everything over, or you’ll have to explain how you got those cuts on your face to your precious mummy and daddy when you get home.”

Yusuke flinched at the mention of parents.

“I – I told you, I don’t have anything on me. I have no phone, no money, and no keys.”

The leader lunged, but Yusuke barely saw it. He threw up his hands in self-defence, but not quickly enough – a slash of pain on his cheek! Surprise made him fall backwards, landing on the ground, cheek stinging badly. His bag fell beside him. The leader of the gang loomed over him, laughing –

“Lovely evening, isn’t it, gentlemen? If you deserve that title, which frankly, you don’t.”

That voice! Yusuke knew that voice…

The gang members all turned around to see a strange figure at the end of the alleyway. He had dark hair, a birdlike mask, a long coat… Yusuke’s heart leapt. It was the Phantom! Oh, what were the odds of that?

“Who the fuck’re you, mask boy?”

“Don’t you watch the news?”

One of the gangsters suddenly went pale.

“Boss, look at the mask! That’s the Phantom!”

The boss laughed.

“What’cha gonna do, then, if that’s who you are? Steal my heart?”

“No,” the Phantom said, “I don’t really think something that cheap is worth my time, Kiyotaka Minami.”

Now it was the boss’s turned to flinch. His face went white, as did those of his associates. Yusuke wondered how the Phantom seemed to know absolutely everything. It was incredible!

“How – how’d you know my name?”

“There isn’t a whole lot I don’t know, if I care to find it out.” The Phantom stepped forwards. “Leave my friend here alone, do you understand?”

The gangsters glanced amongst themselves, not saying anything with words. Their hands crept to their belts, where Yusuke noticed they had all stashed their own knives. In response, the Phantom reached into his jacket and took out a handgun.

“Don’t ever bring a knife to a gunfight, gentlemen.”

That did it. The gangsters may have been willing to try to take on an apparently unarmed Phantom, but the sight of him pulling a gun out was enough to make them bolt. They turned and ran past Yusuke, down the alleyway, round a corner and out of sight. Yusuke did not watch them go – he kept his eyes fixed on the Phantom.

The Phantom smiled and put the gun away. He stepped quickly over to Yusuke and bent down, cupping the painter’s face in his hands.

“That’s quite a cut,” he said. “Any other injuries?”

Yusuke shook his head. “But Sensei will see this, I can’t explain it…”

“You don’t have to. Close your eyes, please.”

Yusuke did so. The Phantom muttered something quietly – _dia_. Chains rattled, something shattered, and a soft tingling swept over Yusuke’s injured cheek, wiping away the pain. Yusuke opened his eyes to see a blue aura fading from around the Phantom.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

The Phantom helped Yusuke up. Yusuke was glad of the assistance – it felt like all of his blood was in his cheeks. What were the chances? Had the Phantom been keeping an eye on him? A thrill swept through him – the Phantom _cared_ about him, in some way! Perhaps this crush wasn’t as doomed as Yusuke had dreaded it was.

“The gun…?”

The Phantom chuckled. “Air pistol, but I admit that it looks extremely realistic. And, well, it _is_ modified to shoot with more force than is legal. It would’ve hurt if I’d had to fire.”

Yusuke tried to raise an eyebrow disapprovingly. The Phantom laughed again, and stepped back.

“Nice bag,” he said, gesturing at it. It was a ratty old thing that Yusuke hadn’t touched since he was ten, but which he’d kept because he couldn’t be bothered to throw it out. Now he was glad he’d done that, or rather, hadn’t.

“It gets the job done. Nice mask.”

“It gets the job done.”

Both of them laughed this time. Yusuke felt his heart slowing down. His face felt a little less red. Something about the Phantom was comfortingly familiar.

“How did you find out I was the painter?” he asked.

“Like I said, there isn’t a whole lot I don’t know that I care to find out.” The Phantom shrugged.

Yusuke crossed his arms.

“Oh, you’re serious about this. Well, then.”

The Phantom stepped away a little, then stretched out a hand in a very familiar pose.

“’Come with me if you want to be free.’”

Yusuke’s blush returned in full force. Right then, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and never see the light of day ever again.

“That – that cat!”

The Phantom laughed. “Yeah, having a pet around can be very handy. Though, I’m pretty curious, Kitagawa-kun. I only saw the one page. What happened next?”

Yusuke froze. He – he had two options. Either he could decline to say, and disappoint his idol. Or, he could say, and probably turn himself into a laughing stock. Doubtless the Phantom had found that one sole page amusing enough.

“I promise I won’t laugh.”

Although, maybe there was a third option. It was potentially even more humiliating than the second, and required a hell of a lot more courage to pull off. Did he dare?

Oh, hell.

“It went a bit like this.”

Yusuke stepped forwards, and took the Phantom’s still-outstretched hand. Then he stepped even closer, fighting down the scarlet blush that threatened to consume him entirely, and leant in. The Phantom did not pull back – in fact, Yusuke fancied that he even leant forwards a little…

The beak of the mask was in the way, which was a little awkward, but the Phantom’s lips were soft and warm. Yusuke kissed him gently, and felt a gentle pressure back for the few moments that they were connected.

When he pulled back, he saw that the Phantom was blushing slightly under the mask. Their hands had fallen to their sides, still joined. The leather of the Phantom’s glove was far cooler than his lips had been. Yusuke wondered if he had warm hands…

“Ah,” the Phantom said. “I see.”

“Well, you’re the one who asked.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Phantom-sama,” Yusuke said, “why did you tell me to stop supporting you?”

“Because I’ve been in love with you for quite a while,” the Phantom said, “since even before you started your painting on the walls.”

Yusuke jolted backwards, letting go of the Phantom’s hand.

“ _What?_ ”

“I’ve… seen you around,” he said. “Every day, when you come home, you walk past where I live. I wanted to speak to you, that first day, but I didn’t know what to say. One has to get these things right, you know. When I worked out you were the one doing this, I… I knew I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Yusuke mulled this revelation over – and then it hit him.

“No. _Fukui-san?_ ”

Kaito put a finger to his lips, shushing Yusuke.

“Phantom-sama…” It all made sense – how the Phantom had found him, how that letter had been delivered, Fukui’s sudden interest in his problems. Everything fit together like a puzzle. Except – “I can’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“You – Fukui, you’re the most inoffensive person I’ve ever met, you’re – ”

“Sweet? Innocent?” The Phantom chuckled merrily. “I get that a lot. Wear a big enough pair of glasses, and nobody thinks you’re the bad guy.”

It sank in.

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“Yes.” Kaito nodded. “I… Kitagawa-kun, I thought that if you were caught, you’d lose everything, but you’re convinced that you’ve already lost everything, or you’re about to. I wanted to help you, but I didn’t know _how…_ ”

“It’s been six months since I did _anything_ original that _didn’t_ relate to you somehow.” Yusuke’s gaze dropped to the floor. “And showing support for a major criminal, at least openly, is not a good idea. I… I’ve lost it, but it was the only thing I had.”

His shoulders dropped. He bit his lip. The reality of it all crashed into him at once – someone was going to spot that he was just copying what others had done, and probably very soon. What would Madarame-sensei say to him? Would he say anything at all?

“Hey, hey.” Kaito cupped Yusuke’s face in his hands again, very gently. Yusuke looked up into that beautiful masked face. “It’s okay. Shit happens.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“I know. But I get it.” He glanced down too. “I was… I was arrested for something I didn’t do. Nothing serious, but I’m a slacker at school – it was enough to get me sent here to go to reform school. Shit happens, Kitagawa-kun. I get it.”

Yusuke reached up and placed his own hand on the Phantom’s pale, cold cheek. Their eyes did not meet when Kaito looked back up. Yusuke had the feeling that Kaito was staring at his mouth. Perhaps he was a little shy.

“Isn’t there anything I can do to help?” Kaito asked quietly.

“There is one thing. There’s an exhibition in a week, and I’m meant to show a portrait there, but I’ve made no progress at all.” He smiled. “I could use a model.”

Kaito chuckled.

“Well, far be it from me to leave my lover in distress…”

“Lover?”

“You’re the one who kissed me.”

“True.”

Kaito leant in, eyes closing behind the mask. Yusuke closed his own. The early summer air was warm, so warm, but Kaito’s breath on his lips was warmer…

\--

_Steal our hearts. We will be forever free._

Ryuuji had taken one look at the photograph in the next day’s paper – complete with ornate heart! – and immediately fallen to the ground laughing. He’d bought the paper with some spare change and rushed to school, where he’d immediately been shouted at for being late. At lunch, he showed Ann the photograph, and she’d slumped forwards over her desk, shaking with laughter.

“Oh, my _god,”_ she said, wiping tears away from her eyes, “that explains the texts we got from Morgana last night…”

“Pff, all that shit about Kaito being in a good mood after running to stop Kitagawa getting mugged?” Ryuuji folded that paper up and stuffed it in his bag. “I guarantee it, something happened with them last night.”

They both looked up and over at the man himself, who was messing around on his phone. This was normal. Something about ‘co-operation’ and ‘keeping the twins happy’. Ann and Ryuuji had quietly decided that they didn’t want to know who these twins were, because from Kaito’s description they sounded like mob bosses who kept taking protection money from him, or something even worse.

“Hey, bossman,” Ryuuji said, “something happen last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He hadn’t even looked up from his phone. Ann signalled to Ryuuji to let her try.

“I’m guessing you didn’t read the paper this morning, then?”

“I overslept.”

Still focused on the phone.

“Right, so… ‘steal our hearts, we will be forever free’… that doesn’t ring a bell at all?”

Ryuuji snickered as he said it. Kaito’s face was now slightly red, but he kept his gaze firmly on his phone.

“Kitagawa struck again?”

Ann rolled her eyes.

“Someone tried to mug him. Morgana told us. They also told us,” oh, now he was looking up, “that you came home after saving him in a really good mood. You are dodging the question because you don’t want us to make fun of you.”

“Lost cause there, dude,” Ryuuji added.

Kaito sighed.

Then he burst out laughing.

“Yes, yes, fine. We sort of made out.”

Ryuuji whooped and punched the air. Ann gave Kaito a round of applause. The rest of their classmates looked round at them, noticed that it was Fukui’s friends who were being loud, and decided to leave it be.

“So,” Ann said, grinning, “the gentleman thief schtick working out for you?”

Kaito grinned. “He asked me to model for him.”

“Dude.” Ryuuji snorted. “From an artist, I’m pretty sure that’s a marriage proposal.”

“How’d you get to that stage, anyway?” Ann tilted her head curiously. “Because, I mean, I’m imagining swirling flower petals and swooning, but that can’t be right.”

And so, Kaito recounted to them everything that had happened the previous night. They made for an excellent audience. Ann giggled nearly constantly, and Ryuuji whooped when Yusuke finally connected the dots.

“…and then I turned back to normal and walked him home. Oh, but not before frying the security camera with Zio. It wasn’t pointed at us, but it couldn’t have hurt.”

“That explains why Minami was freaking out earlier,” Ann said. “I saw him. Ghost pale. Did you really just threaten him with an air pistol?”

Kaito laughed.

“Well, if he was going to be rude, I was going to show him the consequences.”

“Dude,” Ryuuji said, “I bet he’s trying to convince everyone that he met the fucking Phantom, but no one will believe him.”

“So,” Ann said, “modelling? Does he paint nudes?”

She waggled her eyebrows, and while Kaito’s expression remained calm, his face went immediately and entirely red. Ryuuji cackled with laughter at the sight.

Their phones buzzed. Kaito, Ann and Ryuuji detached themselves from this highly amusing topic to check the notification. All of them only had one notification on their screen – a big glowing red-and-black one, showing an eye.

“Oh, motherfucking shit,” Ann said, “it’s the Palace.”

“Someone new is causing trouble,” Kaito mused. “And it’s going to be big trouble very, very soon…”

“Doesn’t say who or where yet, though.” Ryuuji groaned. “Man, just when things were going _well_ for once…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but we aren't done yet. Not at all.


	6. Modelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong, because of course they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - this is now in 100% wild speculation territory. This is based on my personal theories as to what's going on in the game. The whole thing has been, but this chapter is where it really goes wild.

Yusuke Kitagawa’s house was rather something, Kaito thought as he stood before it that afternoon. It was in quite a traditional style, and flowers grew beautifully at its front. The sun shone upon the windows and made them sparkle with light. All in all? Yes, he was in the right place.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped right up and rang the doorbell. Moments later, the door was opened by an older man in traditional clothes, who was eying Kaito sceptically. Kaito assumed that this must be the great Madarame.

“Um, hi,” Kaito said, “is this where Yusuke Kitagawa lives?”

“Yes. Are you the boy he said was going to come and model…?”

Kaito nodded quickly, hastily adjusting his glasses to give the impression that they were about to fall off his face. An angel-faced boy who was always about to lose his glasses, he’d found, was someone that people were immediately willing to trust, or at least to pity. It was working – Madarame’s face softened.

“All right, come in.”

Madarame beckoned Kaito in. Kaito hastily removed his shoes and looked around. It was a very prim and proper house, exactly as Morgana had described it. Seconds after he’d put his shoes away, Yusuke appeared, wearing an apron and with a smudge of paint upon his cheek. Kaito had the immediate urge to kiss it away.

(Ha, he was getting sentimental. Having a boyfriend was weird.)

“Hi, Kitagawa-kun,” he said, smiling in an ineffectual sort of way. Yusuke’s eyes narrowed knowingly. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Oh, no, Fukui-kun,” Yusuke said, “I’d just finished setting up. Come on, the studio’s this way…”

Yusuke lead Kaito through the house and into a side building that had, indeed, been set up as a studio. Kaito nearly laughed when he entered. It was a total mess. Palettes and pots sat somewhat haphazardly upon the table, every surface had at least a bit of paint on, and the central area – where the canvas was set up – had balled-up pieces of paper all over the floor.

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” Yusuke said as he shut the door. “I try to keep it tidy, but when I’m in a bad mood, it just piles up.”

“I think it’s cute,” Kaito said truthfully, and to prove he meant it, he leaned in and kissed Yusuke on the paint smear. Yusuke went bright red and let out a surprised squeak. “And _that_ was even cuter. So, how do you want me?”

Yusuke made a conscious effort to ignore the obvious innuendo (which failed), and gestured to a space by the canvas where he’d set up a scene. It was a plain wooden chair, which had a shackle-and-ball cuffed around one of its legs. Kaito set his bag down out of Yusuke’s sight and sat down on the chair.

“So, what’s the idea?”

“Well, the theme of the expo,” Yusuke explained as he dug through the mess, “is ‘the modern world’. So, I thought I’d paint the general image of the typical teenager. Here we go.”

He took out some pencils from the mess and set them by the canvas.

“Typical teenager?” Kaito’s eyebrows went very far up.

“Yes… well, the people _running_ this are the sort who look for ‘edgy but not actually challenging anything’. I’ve looked them up.”

“…So,” Kaito said, “they want the evils of technology.”

“Yes.”

Kaito made no response, except to reach into his pocket and take out his phone. Yusuke laughed and set to work sketching out the image.

Several minutes passed, punctuated by the scribbling of Yusuke’s pencil. Kaito flicked around on random apps on his phone. He quickly learnt that Madarame’s Wi-Fi was not secured at all.

“It’s just occurred to me,” Yusuke said, “that I don’t know that much about you.”

“You have a point,” Kaito replied. “Go on, ask away.”

Yusuke hesitated, his pencil stopping for a moment. Then he started up again.

“Okay… what’s, ah, your favourite colour?”

“Red.”

“I was expecting black. You know, with the costume and all.”

“Yeah, I didn’t actually have any control over that.”

“Right.” Yusuke set the pencil down and started erasing parts he didn’t like. “So, do you actually work or live at that coffee shop, or was that a cover?”

Kaito laughed.

“I live there, but I don’t work there. I borrowed the apron to make the effect work.”

Yusuke hmmed.

“So… do you have a job?”

“Not a legal one.”

Yusuke laughed. Kaito chuckled, trying not to move so as not to ruin the painting. Yusuke took up his brush and began to paint. His hand moved quickly, so very quickly, like he was throwing it on. Kaito was distinctly reminded of an anime he’d binge-watched once while bored.

“Hmm… you said you were arrested for something you didn’t do?”

Kaito pulled a face.

“Arson. A place near my house got burnt down, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Kaito sighed. “I don’t know who actually did it, but they put me down as needing an eye kept on me, but not quite jail. So, Shujin.”

Yusuke winced.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

“Mmm… what about your family?”

“They, uh…” He sighed. “Look, they’re nice _people_ , and they were on my side, but then the judge said I was guilty and now I’m the family disappointment.”

Yusuke said nothing for a while, concentrating on his painting. Flecks of paint splattered onto his pale skin and his clothes, decorating him like he was part of the painting itself. Eventually, he came up with a topic to change things to.

“If we were to go on a date,” he said, “a normal one, you know, where would you suggest?”

Kaito thought about it.

“You know that film that’s just come out? That mystery-thriller one, I can’t remember the name…”

“Oh, the one with Risette in?”

“That’s the one. I’d like to go and see that. It seems apt, doesn’t it?”

Yusuke had seen advertisements for the film in question. It starred Rise Kujikawa as a witch-detective as sorts, investigating a supernatural serial killer. According to interviews, she’d based her interpretation of her character on a high school friend of hers. It did, to be honest, look quite interesting. Yusuke would never admit it, but he was actually quite the Risette fan.

“That sounds nice, yes.”

“Yeah, and then, you know that French place near the cinema?”

“Oh! I’ve been there.” Yusuke carefully corrected a mis-stroke he’d made. “It’s lovely.”

“We think alike. I’d pay, of course. No sense having ill-gotten gains if you never use them.”

Yusuke laughed. Things continued in such a vein for quite some time, as Yusuke painted and repainted. A couple of times, he took out a new canvas and redrew the entire thing. He’d sometimes returned to his previous attempts. With every brush stroke, he became a little more spirited. A genuine smile grew on his face, free and easy.

Part-way through, Madarame came in and insisted that Yusuke and Kaito eat something. They had sandwiches and tea, which was absolutely delicious. When Madarame wasn’t looking, Kaito leant over and kissed the crumbs from Yusuke’s mouth. Yusuke blushed red and couldn’t look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

By the time they were done, Yusuke had managed to produce something that was certainly not finished, but looked dramatically beautiful. Thick strokes mingled with the beginnings of little details. The colours were dark but extravagant, and Kaito decided that if he ever got a mansion in his quest to be a fully-fledged gentleman, he’d buy the finished version of this painting and hang it in the entrance hall.

Kaito came back the next two days to help Yusuke finish the painting after school, and by the end Kaito found himself agreeing with Morgana – it was theftworthy. (Not that he was actually going to steal it, because who the hell steals from their boyfriend?) He even scored himself an invitation to the exhibition, as well as invitations for Ann and Ryuuji because he thought they might like it. (And since it was at a museum, well, might as well case the joint just in case.)

Everything was wonderful.

So of course, Kaito opened his phone that last evening and immediately had everything ruined.

\--

“This is a really weird string of coincidences,” Ann said.

They were all sitting in Sumikon, pouring over piles of sheets of information gathered in a scramble the previous night. Kaito was biting his lip, half in anger, half in confusion.

“Did that Madarame dude strike you as weird at all?” Ryuuji asked, flipping through a printed-off Wikipedia article. “Kaito?”

“Not really,” Kaito said. “He seemed fairly normal. But he must’ve done _something_ to develop such a corrupted heart. I have a feeling that Yusuke-kun has no idea.”

“He probably doesn’t,” Morgana agreed. “And I doubt he’ll be happy with you when you steal away his father figure’s heart.”

“Now _there’s_ an innuendo.”

Ryuuji and Morgana burst out laughing. Kaito scowled.

“Ann. Really?”

“I figured we should get it out of our systems before getting serious.” She picked up one of the packets of information. “Okay, so, looking through _all_ of this, there is nothing suspicious at all that’s in the public eye. Whatever he did, he sure covered his tracks.”

“And I checked some extra stuff on Kitagawa, just in case – don’t look at me like that, man!” Ryuuji shook his head. “Only weird thing was that no one knows who killed Kitagawa’s mother. ‘Sides from that, it’s your classic lucky orphan story. Madarame knew Mrs Kitagawa and took her son in when she died.”

“So nothing weird.” Morgana scratched their chin. “Well, hell. You guys have invites to that exhibition, right…? Maybe talk to him there?”

Kaito sighed.

“That feels like a major faux pas.”

“Point taken.”

They all stared at the information and sighed. A few minutes passed as they flicked through the information and came up with nothing new or interesting. Madarame was squeaky-clean, and there seemed to be no reason for his corrupted heart to grow enough to catch their attention.

“All right,” Kaito said at last, “the exhibition is our best shot at figuring out what’s going on before we take a dive into the Palace.”

_I just hope_ , he thought, _that I don’t screw everything else up in the process…_


	7. Shattering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The opening night of the exhibition goes about as disastrously as it could have without anyone dying or anything getting stolen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, due to recent information from GameInformer that says that Atlus is keeping Morgana’s gender “ambiguous”, I am using gender neutral pronouns for Morgana from hereon out. Secondly, I must remind everyone that this is pure speculation and imagining and I am probably wrong about everything.

The first night of the exhibition was quite a high-class affair. It was some strange blend of modern and traditional. The great and the good had come together to see the present and future of Japanese art. More established artists had their work shown alongside the bright stars of up-and-coming artists, and of course, prodigies like Yusuke Kitagawa.

After this night, the exhibition would be open to the public – well, the public who could _afford_ it – but right now, it was strictly invitation only. Beautiful dresses and high-class suits were the uniform of the night. Wine and champagne flowed freely (to those present who were of age), and the food provided was more nibbles than anything else. Eating beforehand was strongly recommended.

Naturally, the Phantom Thieves of Heart did not want to stick out. Ryuuji’s bleach-blond hair was bad enough – they didn’t need to stand out any further. So Morgana scaled the building and curled up on the roof, where they were close by to the others. The three human team members took their ill-gotten gains and went on a brief shopping trip.

The result was that Kaito and Ryuuji had both found themselves in the most well-tailored suits that anyone who had anything to do with Shujin High School had ever worn, while Ann had acquired an evening gown in the exact shade of her catsuit. Ryuuji complained about his clothes the entire way there.

“You need to shut up before you get us kicked out,” Ann said.

“I’m getting it all out before we get there so that doesn’t happen, geez!”

Kaito, for his part, thought their clothing was entirely appropriate for a group of elegant gentleman and lady thieves. They pulled it off rather well – the doorman didn’t even blink an eye at them.

The exhibition hall was filled with the sound of polite conversation and discussion of the pieces on show. The pieces in question were, in general, excellent. Kaito’s instincts itched with the urge to grab something. He could see Ryuuji and Ann evaluating them with the same eye that he was giving them. If it wasn’t for Yusuke’s presence, they would almost certainly be plotting an impromptu heist.

Yusuke was not hard to find. Kaito’s breath was taken away by the sight of him. Of course he looked good in a suit – what else had Kaito expected? Madarame was with him, and had attended not in a suit, but a kimono. A few of the older people there had done the same.

“Hello, Kitagawa-kun,” Kaito said, smiling openly. “Everything going well?”

“Oh, Fukui-kun, you made it.” Yusuke smiled, subtly looking Kaito up and down. “Yes, things seem to be going fairly well.”

Madarame’s eyebrows had shot right up at the sight of Kaito all cleaned up and fancy. Inwardly, Kaito felt a little triumphant. _Madarame-san_ , he thought, _you haven’t seen anything yet!_

A pang of guilt made the triumph fade.

“Hello, Madarame-san,” Kaito said, bowing politely. Madarame returned the gestures.

“Fukui-kun,” Yusuke said, “did your friends make it too?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. They’re just over there…”

He gestured to Ann and Ryuuji, who had found the snacks. They hurried over, trying to look dignified. Ann was pulling it off. Ryuuji was making a valiant attempt, but it wasn’t quite working.

“Fukui-kun, Madarame-san,” Kaito said, “this is Ann Takamaki and Ryuuji Sakamoto. Ann-san, Ryuuji-kun…”

“Nice to meet you,” Ann said, flashing a brilliant white smile. Ryuuji grinned and nodded, not trusting himself to not foul this up somehow. Ann could pull off ‘charming’ – he found it a lot more difficult.

“Fukui-kun’s told me a lot about you,” Yusuke said.

“Likewise,” Ryuuji said. To Yusuke’s credit, the resulting blush was nearly unnoticeable.

“Do excuse me,” Madarame said, “but I will take me leave. I have just seen an old friend over there.”

“Oh, of course, Sensei,” Yusuke said.

Madarame left, the Phantom Thieves eying him suspiciously as he went. The moment he was far enough away, Ryuuji took a bit of sushi he’d grabbed from the buffet table out of his pocket and ate it in a single bite.

“Ryuuji,” Ann said, “what part of _civilised high society_ do you not understand?”

“Yeah, uh, how many of these did you stick down your throat?”

Kaito laughed. “Ann, Ryuuji, _really._ ”

“What,” Ryuuji said, “are we embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend?”

Ann giggled, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle it. Kaito kept a straight face, but decided that on their next heist, he was going to delay a little on the healing spells.

“Nice painting,” Ann said, looking at it approvingly. “Huh… the style seems sort of familiar. Maybe I’ve seen something you’ve done before? I mean, I’m no big art fan, but this is pretty neat.”

Yusuke flinched, and didn’t hide it very well. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and nodded gracefully.

“Perhaps you have.”

Stiff. Forced.

Kaito smelt trouble.

\--

The Great Morgana yawned and stretched, gazing out over the cityscape before them. Oh, how they loved these sights. Glittering lights, each one with a story behind it. And in this area of town, fabulous riches too.

Ah, Morgana loved those kids. They were a wild group, with not a lot of sense between them, but they had a sense of adventure and an appreciation for the finer things in life – when they could get them. Kaito, Ryuuji and Ann were a beautiful disaster.

And oh, the spoils they’d gained!

‘Course, being a bunch of hormonal teenagers, sometimes their wild habits spilled over to make things worse. Take this whole romantic affair. It had been funny, then cute, then it became a problem because of Madarame…

Say. Was that Madarame out on the balcony? Morgana remembered him from the day they’d gone snooping at Kitagawa’s house. Well, far be it from Morgana to pass up this opportunity.

Morgana stretched out again, then carefully checked the area. Madarame and a human Morgana didn’t recognise were out on the balcony. The archway of the large window-doors they’d come through stuck out a little – just enough for Morgana to balance on. Perfect. Morgana dropped silently off the roof and onto the archway. They dropped low and hugged the arch, ears pricked.

“…he’s just seemed to be a bit unmotivated lately,” Madarame said. “I mean, he manages to get everything done, but it’s taking him a while. Like this piece, I don’t know _where_ he found that model but thank God he did…”

“I can understand why that’d be a pain,” the man said. He was tall, in a dark suit and sunglasses. Nothing picked him out from anyone else at the party. Damn. “After all the business with his mother, too…”

“Oh, don’t remind me of _that_.” Madarame sighed. “Anyway, how’s the investment going?”

The man shrugged.

“Not badly, but not as well as expected,” the man confessed. “Some trouble on the supply end, you know how it is.”

“Mmm.” Madarame’s eyes narrowed. “I did invest quite a bit of money into this, you know.”

“Hey, now. We put a lot into it too, all right?”

The man shifted. Morgana noticed three things about him at that moment. Firstly, he had a scar above his eye. Secondly, he was well-muscled under his suit. Thirdly, there were tattoos on his wrists, concealed by the suit until he’d moved and given them a glimpse.

Morgana put two and two and two together, and got six. Yakuza! Their tail lashed. This was getting interesting…

“I know that,” Madarame said carefully.

Time to get a certain phantom’s attention.

\--

“Madarame-san seems nice.”

Kaito had briefly considered trying to persuade the staff that he was twenty and not sixteen, but in the end, he’d decided that even he wasn’t mature enough to pull it off. Yusuke’s dislike of that plan had merely been the icing on the cake.

“He’s a little harsh,” Yusuke admitted, “but he took me in, and he’s taught me everything I know.”

Nearby, Ann and Ryuuji were examining the other paintings. Yusuke gave them a look, then turned to Kaito and dropped his voice low.

“Am I to assume that one of this pieces is going to go missing at some point?”

Kaito chuckled.

“I thought you might find that rude.”

“Oh, no, not me.” He smiled. “Actually, it’d be pretty exciting…”

Kaito was about to make a smooth response when his phone buzzed. He made a quick apology and took it out, opening up his text messages.

_THE GREAT MORGANA: Madarame was talking to a yakuza guy. Something about an ‘investment’. There’s our answer._

Yakuza? Oh no.

“Something the matter?”

Yusuke’s one visible eye had gone wide with concern. Kaito bit his lip and wondered about how to approach this.

“Kitagawa-kun,” he said carefully, “does, ah… Does Madarame-san do a lot of business aside from his art?”

“Well… I know he does help a few friends out with investments and things,” Yusuke replied, “but I don’t know a lot about it. He keeps it to himself, really. I’ve never asked.”

“Right. And if one of my accomplices had seen Madarame-san with a member of the yakuza, you’d know nothing about that?”

“What?”

Yusuke had gone deathly pale, heart caught in his throat. There was a sense of steel in the gaze he fixed on Kaito, who swallowed.

“Right. I thought so.”

“ _Yakuza?_ Are you _sure?_ ”

“Morgana-san seems pretty convinced.” Kaito showed him the phone screen with the text. “Just thought I’d ask, is all.”

Yusuke snatched the phone out of Kaito’s hand, reading and re-reading the text that Morgana had sent. A number of curious emotions flittered over Yusuke’s face – confusion, disbelief, shock, even anger. Eventually, he settled on looking vaguely sick.

He passed the phone back to Kaito.

“Please excuse me,” he said.

Before Kaito could say anything, Yusuke had fled the exhibition hall and gone out onto one of the balconies. Kaito winced and watched him go. He quickly typed out a text to Ann and Ryuuji, who had also received Morgana’s text: _Trying to talk to Kitagawa-kun about it. It’s not going well._

Then, he followed closely behind Yusuke, going out onto the same balcony and shutting the doors behind him. Yusuke still looked sick, but now there was a glare in his sickness.

“Sensei does _not_ work with the yakuza.”

“I’m only telling you what Morgana-san saw.” Kaito put his phone back into his pocket. “Perhaps that wasn’t the most tactful way for me to ask. I’m sorry.”

“ _Not the most tactful way?”_ Yusuke was spluttering his words. “Madarame-sensei took me in when I had nothing and no one. He is the only family I have. I know him, and he would _not_ be making deals with the _yakuza_! You’re mistaken! And who is this ‘Morgana-san’, anyway?!”

“Did you forget about me already?”

Kaito was ready to strangle that shapeshifter. Morgana had daintily hopped down from the roof in her usual bipedal form. Yusuke looked at her like he’d seen a ghost.

“I know what I saw,” Morgana said. “I also happen to know that they’re still talking. Want some proof? They’re on a balcony on the other side of the hall.”

Yusuke swallowed hard, and pushed past Kaito, opening the doors and crossing the hall more quickly than was perhaps polite. Kaito followed, heart sinking with every step.

Madarame and his ‘friend’ were still talking, sound insulated by the shut doors. Yusuke frowned, frustrated, so Kaito grabbed his arm and took him to the next doors along. They stepped out onto that balcony, shut the doors, and hid behind a plant. Kaito put a hand over Yusuke’s mouth.

“…The shipment’ll be coming in a couple of days,” the man said. “The profits should start coming in shortly, you’ll see our end of the deal.”

“Good,” Madarame said. “I know the Yamaguchi-gumi doesn’t let people down, but I’m a bit of a worrier…”

Kaito felt Yusuke gasp against his palm. Yamaguchi-gumi – that was a rather infamous name. Kaito himself didn’t fancy his chances against the likes of them.

“You always have been.” The yakuza man laughed. “I don’t blame you, after that scare with that Kitagawa lady…”

Madarame sighed deeply.

“I feel a little bad about that,” he admitted. (Yusuke went totally cold.) “But, you know, she got herself into it. The least I could do was take that boy in.”

The two men exchanged a few more words, then left, one after the other, returning to the hall. Kaito took his hand away from Yusuke’s mouth. Yusuke staggered to his feet, face a sickly, pale green.

“No,” he said weakly, “ _no!_ I’ve known him my whole life!”

Kaito got to his own feet, reaching out a hand to steady the swaying Yusuke. Yusuke flinched away from him. Kaito winced.

“Sorry. For the record, I had no idea until today myself.”

“You’re lying.” Yusuke swallowed. “That text. ‘There’s our answer.’ What did you know?”

Ouch. He was _good._ And that accusing look was like a brand, even through the tears of confusion and betrayal in Yusuke’s eyes.

“…Do you know why I steal hearts?”

“No.”

“Sometimes, people get _corrupted._ They start hurting other people, for personal gain, because it’s fun, out of selfishness – or apathy.” Kaito adjusted his glasses as he spoke. “But, if you can take that corruption away, make them realise what they’ve done – you can _change_ things. Improve society. And you also stop demons and shadows from eating peoples’ souls, which is nice.”

“…You’re going to steal Sensei’s heart.”

“Yes.” Kaito sighed. “Look, this wasn’t _planned_ , all right? I had no idea that a corrupted heart was causing problems here until we started dating, and I didn’t know it was Madarame-san until _two days ago._ ”

“So it’s a big coincidence, then?”

“Yes.”

It may have been the truth, but Yusuke, in his shock-addled state, did not believe a word of it. His heart shattered into splinters like knives, slicing through him. He felt sick; he was about to throw up, he was sure. It felt like something was forcing its way up his throat, but nothing came. No words, no response, no possible explanation for any of this that could make anything better at all.

Yusuke turned, flung open the doors, and stumbled back into the hall. He pushed his way through the crowd, fighting off tears and getting a lot of angry looks. Madarame was back at Yusuke’s painting, but god, how could Yusuke _face_ him now?

Madarame took the choice away from him.

“Kitagawa? Are you all right?” His face was genuinely concerned, and for a moment, Yusuke could pretend that this was all some horrible dream, that Madarame was exactly who his protégé had always imagined him to be. Then the illusion shattered. “You don’t look well.”

“I – think I ate something funny, S-Sensei,” Yusuke got out, dizzy. “I don’t feel good at all…”

“Oh, dear. Some of those nibbles did look a bit off.” Madarame patted Yusuke on the back. It was a kind, fatherly gesture, and entirely out of place with what Yusuke now knew about him. “Come on, I think we’ll have to go…”

\--

Outside, in the dark, Kaito Fukui stared at the open doors.

He felt angry. He could admit that. It wasn’t fair. Nothing ever was. But the anger was overwhelmed by grief for something that had barely begun. Yusuke Kitagawa had thieved his way into the phantom thief’s heart, and now he’d shattered it in two and made off with the pieces.

And the worst part was, it _still_ wasn’t over.

By the time Madarame and Yusuke had made it down to the car they’d arrived in, a single red-and-black calling card had been left upon the windshield. Madarame ripped it in two and dismissed it as a “strange prank based on a ridiculous urban legend”.

Yusuke watched the pieces rip in two, and silently cursed his own naive


	8. Phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist begins.

Yusuke still felt sick.

Just a week prior, he’d been standing in this studio, painting his boyfriend. Now they’d broken up, and Madarame was not who Yusuke had thought he was. And the Phantom, Kaito Fukui – who was he _really?_

Yusuke didn’t know if he wanted Kaito to have been telling the truth. If Kaito had lied, then Yusuke had been used, and rather cruelly too. His idealism and innocence had been abused by someone who was manipulative and selfish. But if Kaito _hadn’t_ lied, and this was all a horrible coincidence, then Yusuke had broken the heart of his idol.

Emotions. Useless things. No matter how hard he poured his heart into what he did, no matter how hard he tried to make his feelings show, it was all for nothing. Even that last muse was gone, now.

The paintings around the room mocked him. He’d gathered up all the Phantom-inspired art he’d done, trying to decide what to do with it. The smiles on those masked faces were now smiling at _his_ foolishness and misfortune. Those clever fingers had taken his heart, and now what remained was in tatters.

Perhaps he was being dramatic. Perhaps there was no point to this hurt and heartache. After all, he was only sixteen. Surely, his heart would be broken many more times in his life.

But – to idolise people, and to find out that they aren’t what you thought…

Both Madarame and Kaito were not the people Yusuke had thought he’d known. One alone would have been a devastating revelation. Both was too much.

Yusuke screamed, snatching up a red-dipped brush and splattering the canvases around him with red. Those mocking smirk and cruel eyes vanished in a sea of painted blood. But no matter how many streaks covered them, Yusuke knew what was beneath.

He dropped the brush, gasping out a sob. It felt once more like something was trying to force its way up his throat. For a moment, he thought he’d throw up, but then the feeling passed, and he was left alone with ruined canvases and a broken heart.

\--

There wasn’t really a tactful way to approach it.

Kaito had returned from talking to Yusuke with his jaw set and tears pricking at his eyes. No matter how much he tried to hide it, he was hurt. Ryuuji and Ann’s attempts to ask what had happened had been brushed off. This was all the answer they’d needed.

Yusuke hadn’t taken it well.

But, they still had a job to do. Kaito had made sure of that when he’d stuck his calling card upon Madarame’s car. Madarame was enabling some terrible things. Morgana had checked with her various demonic contacts and found that his ‘investments’ related to arms and drug shipping, as well as many other sordid things. That house had not been paid for with art alone.

(In fact – Ann thought privately – it seemed rather likely that Madarame’s fame had originated at least in part _from_ his under-the-table deals. A few greased palms could go a long way.)

The point was that, for the sake of the world, Madarame needed to have his heart stolen, so that he could see the error of his ways and perhaps _stop_. That was their job, so they would do it.

But Kaito plainly wasn’t getting any joy out of the task.

“Dude,” Ryuuji said as they crouched in an alley by the exhibition hall, “are you _sure_ you’re okay for this?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Kaito snapped.

“All right,” Ryuuji said. “But, man, I do not envy the demons tonight…”

Ann smacked him in the arm.

“Right!” Morgana said, dragging the topic away from Kaito’s trainwreck of a love life. “Remember, we have to be pretty much on top of Madarame for this to work. So, we get to the Palace and move! The exhibition ends in a few days!”

“Yeah, let’s do this quickly,” Ann said, “We do _not_ need to break into his house.”

The three human thieves took out their phones (Kaito yet again found himself wondering how Ann hid hers) and opened up the Iskei-Navi. The world warped, twisted, and – there they were, standing outside the Palace.

Things had not changed much. They were still standing outside the exhibition hall, at least in theory, and most of the surrounding world was still much the same. The hall, however, had been totally transformed. Bright spotlights shone upon a vast, golden building, chaotic and eccentric. Huge, gaudy writing in gold shone out from the side.

Kaito didn’t bother reading it. Instead, he nodded, and stepped out into the twisted world of the Palace. He scanned the area, spotted a convieniently-placed truck, and jumped up on top of it. It took him high enough to drop over the high wall around the hall. Ryuuji, Morgana and Ann followed quickly.

The doors to the twisted exhibition hall were easy to reach, from there. Kaito stared up at them, waiting for the others to catch their breath.

“Lots of trouble in there,” Morgana remarked dryly. “We better be ready for this.”

Kaito nodded, trademark smirk not quite appearing upon his face. He pushed the doors open, a rush of air greeting him.

They stepped cautiously into the hall. If they listened, they could vaguely hear the sound of people talking, far away in another world. This version of the hall, however, was inhabited only by demons and Shadows.

“Ooh,” Ann said, “this is cool.”

She wasn’t wrong. Everything had gone green inside, with scaffolding everywhere. The scaffolds lead upwards, towards painting after painting, each one vast and beautiful. Unfortunately, the scaffolding didn’t exactly seem to be stable. They were going to have to work that one out.

A rush of blue light from behind him caught Kaito’s attention. He didn’t have to look to know that the others had summoned their Personae. Captain Kidd, Zorro and Carmen were ready.

So which would Kaito bring to the party?

\--

Yusuke was still not enjoying himself. His “sickness” had cleared up after he’d destroyed his art, but that didn’t mean that he was any happier. In fact, he was filled with a deep melancholy, born from heartbreak and disillusionment. It was an effort to plaster a smile on his face – an effort he was quickly giving up.

The patrons weren’t helping.

“I swear,” one of them muttered to another, obviously assuming that Yusuke couldn’t hear them, “I’ve seen that painting before…”

“It does look familiar,” the other said. “Maybe you just saw something like it once?”

There it was again – the feeling that something was clawing its way out of Yusuke’s throat. He swallowed and it dissipated.

“Kitagawa.”

Yusuke flinched. Madarame had appeared next to him, apparently still in possession of his heart. Yusuke couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Yes, Sensei…?”

“Come and look at this.”

Madarame led Yusuke away from the gossips and over to the beautiful statuette that was the centrepiece of the exhibition. It was a gorgeous item, decorated with gold and other shining colours. A man in a _hanfu_ lay below a tree, sleeping. Around him was a swarm of butterflies, each one in a different colour – purple, red, blue, yellow, pink. A little sign by the sculpture read, ‘ _The Butterfly’s Dream_.’

“Oh,” Yusuke said, “is this…?”

“Based on the quote by Zhuangzi,” Madarame said. “Isn’t it beautiful? Modern techniques, but an old quote.”

“Mm.”

It was beautiful indeed. Small, but exquisitely detailed. The creator had made something amazing, and valuable. And the name attached to it… yes, it was likely the most valuable thing in the entire room. Yusuke found himself mentally taking notes, even if he wasn’t much of a sculptor –

A flare of pain ran through his chest. He gasped and clutched at his throat, feeling it contract – and then release, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps he really was sick. Whatever it was, Madarame hadn’t seen it. He was too busy talking to the artist. Yusuke felt a stab of anger like the stab of pain.

What was even happening to him?

\--

The Palace was, as usual, an absolute mess. It was a sprawling maze over many floors, like the twists and turns of the schemes of Madarame’s corrupted heart. The art motif got old after a while, though the part where they actually stepped _into_ the paintings was fairly entertaining. Unfortunately, the sensation wasn’t fun, and Kaito quickly grew sick of all of it.

The demons and Shadows did not help. The usual cuts and bruises soon littered the bodies of the phantom thieves. Their costumes quickly became ripped and torn. They had magic, of course, but magic could only do so much.

Eventually, something had to give.

“Okay,” Ryuuji said, slumping against the wall, “can we please take a fucking break?”

Kaito dispatched the last of the Nekomata that had accosted them and turned to face Ryuuji. His face had relaxed somewhat. Demonslaying was rather cathartic.

“I’m with Ryuuji,” Ann said, adjusting her tail. “I’m exhausted. We can’t run this in a single night.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Morgana said, “much as I’d like to get this over with…”

Kaito scratched his chin.

“All right. But I don’t want to go all the way back _down_ again…”

Everyone groaned at the thought of fighting their way back down the hall and into the outside world. It would take forever and _hurt._ Unfortunately, stepping back into the world from here would put them right back into the _real_ hall.

Morgana sniffed the air and nodded.

“We’ll be secluded if we go back from right here,” they said, “but we still have to leave the hall itself. Could be tricky.”

“We’ll figure that out when we come to it,” Kaito said, taking his phone out once again.

Ann and Ryuuji followed suit, and moments later, they had returned to the real world. They quickly found themselves ducking out of the way, because they were on a landing overlooking the main hall. From here, one could give a toast, or watch some performance. All they could see were the many magnificent pieces, and the people milling about the hall. (Kaito spotted a flash of blue hair, and immediately felt horrible.)

“Okay, exits,” Kaito said, distracting himself. “What have we got?”

“There’s a door either side of us,” Ann said, “but by my guess, they both lead right into the main hall. We’re all bashed up, we’re not gonna blend in even out of costume.”

“I hear guards,” Morgana said.

Kaito ran through his options. Eventually, he decided.

“Morgana, you’re the most hurt. Cat form, get out of here. Ann, Ryuuji, help me shoot out the main lights.”

Ryuuji and Ann both grinned wickedly.

“I have no idea what your plan is, boss,” Ryuuji said, “but I know it’s gonna be awesome.”

“We can’t leave subtly,” Kaito explained, “so let’s leave _dramatically_. When the lights go out, get over the hall and make right for the front doors. I’ll get the prize – I see something nice down there – and follow you as quickly as I can. We need to be a block away before they realise what’s happened.”

The trio nodded. Morgana wearily changed forms and scampered off. Kaito, Ann and Ryuuji readied their long-range weapons and crept into position, behind the railing on the landing.

“Go.”

The first indication that anyone else in the hall had that anything was happening was when the gunfire started. The lights shattered, raining glass down on the unsuspecting artists and paintings. Screams and yells rang through the air. Everyone ducked for cover – but no more gunfire came.

Yusuke’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what was happening, and despite everything, he felt excited. The young artist cast his eyes about, unable to see through the sudden darkness.

Then – there! A pair of figures, darting through the air like they were walking on it. Yusuke could barely make out their silhouettes, but knew that it had to be Takamaki and Sakamoto. So where was Kaito?

That question was answered seconds later. A third dark figure leapt through the air and landed with a light _crunch_ upon the glass-covered ground. There was a rush of air, and they vanished into the gloom of the hall.

The windows at the front of the hall shattered, letting crisp night air flood in. The figures there were suddenly easier to see – a catsuit-clad girl and a delinquent boy, waving and grinning at the crowd before leaping out and disappearing. The third figure soon joined them, something tucked under his arm. He glanced around at the crowd.

Through the darkness, Yusuke fancied that their eyes met, just for a moment. That feeling of something forcing its way up his throat returned, more violently than ever, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to will the pain away.

When he opened them again, he was in another world. No one noticed, however, because the lights were still out, and the Phantom in the window had everyone’s attention. He nodded to the crowd, then leapt out and disappeared into the night. By the time the security guards had scrambled through the darkness to find him, he was already long gone.

A rush of discussion and excitement ran through the hall as they all realised precisely _who_ had just made an appearance. Soon enough, the emergency lights came on, and another rush ran through the crowd.

“’ _The Butterfly’s Dream_ ’!” one patron shouted. “It’s gone!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Consider this a present.


	9. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke is trapped in another world, and somehow, this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Yusuke opened his eyes.

This was not the exhibition hall.

He closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. No, it was still not the exhibition hall, not in the slightest. If anything, it was a twisted version of the place where Yusuke had been standing just a moment previously. Eerie paintings stared down at him, rippling as if they were alive. Scaffolds led up and up to a ceiling that Yusuke couldn’t see.

And it was quiet. So, so quiet! All Yusuke could hear was his own scared breathing.

What was going on? Where on earth was he?

Was he even on earth at all?

“Hello?” he called, voice shaking. “Is anybody there?”

He was greeted first by silence, and then by a low rumbling and murmuring. It sounded totally inhuman and decidedly malevolent. He was not alone.

**_Run._ **

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was familiar, but distorted and cruel. He felt sick all over again. Yusuke looked around, but saw no one there.

**_I said run, you coward._ **

That strange, inhuman rumbling grew louder. Yusuke knew it was because whatever was out there was getting closer. Perhaps he was wrong, and it was friendly, but he had no way of knowing that for sure.

He turned, listened to the voice, and ran.

\--

“It really is beautiful,” Morgana said. “Did you see the play of colours in the paint? And of course, the sculpting is just _magnificent._ It’s got to be worth something ridiculous. We shall dine upon _‘The Butterfly’s Dream’_!”

“Shhh!” Ann hissed. “But you’re not wrong…”

The four of them sat in Sumikon, recovering from the chaos of the previous night’s heist. Again, the café was nearly deserted. At school, all anyone had been talking about was the appearance of the Mysterious Phantom Thieves of Heart. The guards at the hall had been totally unable to explain how, precisely, the trio had made it into the hall without being detected. No alarms had been tripped at all, and there was no evidence of a break-in.

It had, of course, been floated around that they had entered as patrons of the arts. This theory had swiftly fallen apart – how had they left the public area undetected? How had they brought their disguises with them? And the weapons – how had _they_ been smuggled in? Everyone had known that the exhibition was a potential target. How had security lapsed so badly?

Sometimes, Kaito wondered if anyone suspected ‘magic’ as the answer. Certainly, the joke had been made. Was there anyone out there who seriously considered it to be a possibility? He liked to imagine some Persona-using detective hunting them down. A Holmes to his Moriarty, complete with a stylish cap of some sort. It was unlikely, but all possibilities had to be considered, especially when one knew that magic was real.

“Man, what’re you guys gonna spend your shares one?” Ryuuji was grinning wistfully. “I’m thinking, new games console?”

“I feel like I’m probably going to be spending it on gear,” Kaito said bitterly. “I swear, I ought to get a bigger share than I do…”

“You already get the lion’s share!” Morgana’s tail lashed. “Honestly…”

A ringing sound announced the arrival of someone new to the café. Kaito poked his head up, and saw with shock that Madarame had made an appearance. He looked troubled, for some reason, and he was making a beeline straight for Kaito.

“I had to go all along this street, to see if I could find you,” he said. “Fukui, would you happen to know where Kitagawa is?”

Alarm bells rang in Kaito’s head.

“I’ve not seen him since the first night of the exhibition,” Kaito replied truthfully. “Is something wrong?”

“He’s gone missing.”

Kaito’s blood turned to ice. Ryuuji and Ann sat up suddenly in their own seats.

“What?”

“Last night, he disappeared,” Madarame explained. “It was when the Phantom made an appearance. The lights were shot out, and by the time they were back on, Kitagawa had vanished.”

“Vanished…”

Kaito’s mind scrambled for answers. Would anyone have kidnapped him? No – Madarame was working with the yakuza. At the very least, someone would be keeping an eye on Yusuke. There were two possibilities: either Yusuke had somehow been so disturbed by the sight of his ex-boyfriend that he’d run off and not returned home, _or…_

Oh no.

“Is something up at home?” Kaito said, fishing for answers. “Something seemed up with him when I last spoke to him – he seemed really upset…”

Madarame eyed Kaito up suspiciously, then answered.

“Problems with his work. Nothing more serious – oh, but he’s been ill recently.” Madarame shook his head. “If you’re thinking that he’s run away from home, you’re wrong. He’s got no family except for me. There is nowhere he could have gone.”

Suspicions confirmed. Kaito nodded.

“I see. I hope he’s okay…”

“Me too. Well, goodbye.”

Madarame bowed and left. Kaito watched him go, heart sinking further and further. When Madarame was finally gone, Kaito turned back to his friends, whose eyes were wide.

“He’s in the Palace,” Ann said. “Like me, when you went after… _him_ …”

“Oh, shit,” Ryuuji said. “The people closest to ‘em get pulled into this mess. This ain’t good. He’s been in there since last night!”

“Shadows leave humans without Personae alone,” Morgana said, tail lashing furiously, “at least, for a while. Demons can be tricked, but they’re probably trying to eat him as we speak.”

“We have to go and get him!” Ann clenched her fists. “He’s probably terrified, and if his Persona is awakening…”

“We go in tonight,” Kaito said. “The exhibition is closed because of the damaged windows, but the Palace will still be intact.”

His heart twisted. Damn it – his was as unruly as any other. Even if their courtship had been fleeting – even if they’d been thrown together by circumstance, and then apart by the same means – Kaito could not let Yusuke go. Even if he’d never met Yusuke Kitagawa before in his life, he’d still have saved the poor sap, but…

This was personal.

\--

Yusuke sank to his knees, exhaustion setting in. How long had he been awake? How long had he been trapped in this twisted world? No matter where he went, there seemed to be no exit, no way out. He wasn’t even sure of how he had gotten here. This was a nightmare and he wasn’t waking up.

It was too much. His failing muse, Madarame, Kaito, and now this?

Yusuke began to cry. He was quiet, because otherwise the monsters around him would find him, but he cried. Everything had gone wrong so quickly, and he had no idea what to do about any of it. His sobs stung through the growing pressure in his throat.

Everything hurt. He was never going to get out of this.

**_What’s the point in going back?_ **

The voice in his ear was nasty. It hadn’t spoken to him since telling him to run, but he’d decided that he didn’t like it at all.

**_No matter what you do, you’ve failed. You can’t be as good as you’re meant to be. All you do is copy and cheat._ **

Yusuke shook his head, though he knew that voice was speaking the truth. He wanted to properly deny it, but he didn’t have the strength to mount anything more than a token objection.

**_Everyone can tell. Kaito. Madarame. They never let you in on anything because you’re useless._ **

He looked around again. There was still no one there, but that voice… It sounded like Yusuke’s own, like all of his self-doubt brought to cruel, terrible life. He didn’t want to listen, but he knew in his heart that it was right.

**_There’s no point in going home. A life that’s not worth living, or… this?_ **

Before Yusuke could give up and continue crying, the gurgling got louder. His head shot up, and he saw a black, masked shape, like a blob of hatred given form, heading right towards him. It pulled itself across the floor with terrifying speed.

Yusuke sprang to his feet, backing away quickly. He knew that others like it could not be far away, that there was nowhere to run to, **_that there was no point in trying…_**

A suspiciously familiar shattering sound cut through the air, accompanied by the roar of clanging chains. Yusuke squeezed his eyes shut to avoid being blinded by the flash of blue light that came moments later. The monster screeched, then faded.

Yusuke opened his eyes. Hovering in the air before him was a woman, eight feet tall or more. Her skin was literally pink, and she wore a black mask. The top of her operatic dress was almost completely open. She smoked a cigarette, and carried a thorned chain with two smaller figures.

The woman smiled at him, and faded, to be replaced by –

“Takamaki-san?”

“Found you!” Takamaki grinned at him, setting her mask back onto her face. “You okay?”

“No!”

“Fair enough.”

Ann stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Moments later, Kaito, Ryuuji and Morgana came bounding over. Kaito’s mask was off, and his eyes were wide with fright and concern. A look of genuine, blessed relief came over his face when he saw that Yusuke was physically unharmed.

Yusuke realised. He’d been telling the truth the entire time.

“Are you all right?” Kaito asked.

“I – I’m okay,” Yusuke said. Then immediately, he changed his mind. **“No, I’m not. I’m fucking terrified.”**

He clapped his hand over his mouth. He _never_ swore! And that hadn’t been his voice…

The thieves glanced between each other, as if confirming something silently.

“Well, that’s only natural,” Kaito said. “But you’re not hurt?”

“I – **define _hurt_ ,”** Yusuke said, hand dropping to his side and clenching into a fist. **“Because, you know, I’m actually starting to _like_ this place!”**

Every word felt like throwing up. Whatever had been trying to force its way out of his throat was now succeeding, and it was agony. Yusuke half-expected to start coughing up blood. The thieves seemed to be thinking the exact same way, judging from the looks on their faces.

“Kitagawa-kun,” Kaito said, carefully, “what do you mean by that?”

**“It’s a lot nicer than the real world, that’s what I mean!”** Yusuke desperately wanted to stop talking, but couldn’t. Tears pricked at his eyes from pain and anger. **“Back there, I’m just a fraud and a fake. Everything I make is a copy of something that someone else has done! And people are figuring it out, too. And now the only person who might be able to help me? Oh, he’s only working with the _yakuza!_ At least here, something might eat me so I don’t have to deal with this!”**

Kaito stepped back, unsure of how to deal with this outburst. Yusuke’s throat and lungs were burning now, his eyes stinging. Everything was starting to go black at the edges…

**“Because that’s the problem, you see.”** Why wouldn’t it end? **“I’m a coward. A total coward. I don’t dare face up to any of this. I keep hiding it, and running away from it, and pretending nothing is wrong. And now it’s caught up to – to me…”**

Yusuke broke off into a sob, replacing the forced words with genuine, real tears. Everything burnt like he’d been branded from the inside.

A hand was placed gently on his shoulder. He looked up, squinting through the pain to see Kaito, mask removed, standing and looking at him with pity. No, not pity – understanding.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he said. “Shit happens.”

In any other situation, this would have been the absolute worst thing to say, but Yusuke understood his meaning instantly. Yusuke’s face contorted into a pained smile, and despite the burning in his lungs, he had to laugh. It was a weak, croaky chuckle.

“Y’know, boss, there’s more tactful ways to phrase that,” Ann said. “But you know what, Kitagawa-kun, he’s _right._ It’s not that other people suffering makes what you’re going through any _less_. It’s just that we _understand._ ”

**“Understand…?”** Yusuke shook his head. **“All that’d happen if I said anything would be that I’d get in trouble. No one would listen.”**

“Dude, you’re a camel and everyone’s stickin’ straw on your back,” Ryuuji said. “Everyone put way too many expectations on you. You’re _sixteen,_ man! Everyone fucks up age sixteen, but for some freakin’ reason, everyone thinks that one fuckup makes you a permanent fuckup!”

“Blunt, but accurate,” Morgana said. “The world doesn’t get it. We do.”

Kaito squeezed Yusuke’s shoulder reassuringly.

Yusuke thought about it as the fire raged in his chest and throat. Were they right? Had too much been placed on his shoulders? Was the world turning against him for no good reason?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t. He wasn’t just scared, he was angry. The fire in him had been building for a long, long time, and now it had erupted. That was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Yusuke closed his eyes. He felt the tears stop. The burning in his chest twisted, but didn’t dampen. It went from a raging inferno to a grand bonfire, hot as any other fire but made to warm, not burn. The rage was still there, but it was twisting, and –

Yusuke stepped back, letting Kaito’s hands drop from his shoulders, and he opened his eyes. Something was obscuring his view, but he could see the delight and surprise upon the faces of the thieves who’d come to save him.

He put his hand up to his face. A hard, smooth mask had somehow appeared upon it. Instinct took over. He pulled.

It hurt! Oh, god, it hurt. He realised immediately that pulling the mask off had ripped away the top half of his face. He could feel the blood trickling down his cheeks. His concerns about how to get this problem fixed were wiped away nearly immediately by the rush of inhuman _power_ that ran through him.

A blizzard overwhelmed the fire in him. It was a literal blizzard, he realised quickly – the world around him had _actually_ dropped in temperature. He welcomed it, felt like it was part of him, like the chains in his hands were.

Yusuke turned and looked up. Hanging in midair, attached to the chains, was a bizarre and beautiful figure. He wore sumptuous, beautiful clothes, and smoked from a grand golden pipe. Yusuke committed the image to memory immediately, feeling inspiration strike him.

**_I ART THOU, THOU ART I. WILST THOU ALLOW THEM TO TAKE THY FREEDOM? I AM GOEMON, THY OTHER SELF, THY PERSONA…_ **

Goemon faded in a scattering of blue light, and the chains faded too. Yusuke noticed that his face didn’t hurt any more, and touched his brow – the blood was gone and the skin was back. Thank goodness, that was quite a terrifying injury to inflict upon himself…

The sound of clapping brought Yusuke out of his thoughts. He turned back to see the thieves looking at him with pride and joy. Kaito’s grin was ear-to-ear and almost entirely shiteating. It was also one of the most genuinely happy things that Yusuke had ever seen. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“Nice,” Kaito said.

“Very nice!” Ann added.

“Dude, seriously, what are the _odds?”_ Ryuuji was shaking his head as he grinned.

“Nice tail.”

Yusuke frowned when he heard Morgana’s words. He suddenly noticed that his clothes had been transformed entirely – some sort of white outfit with, yes, a tail. It looked a bit like a fox’s tail. How quaint.

“What on earth just happened?” he asked.

“That’s something we can explain later,” Kaito said. “For now, we should get you out of here before you collapse from exhaustion…”

\--

Kaito was the one who ended up walking Yusuke home. Morgana had vanished almost immediately, while Ann and Ryuuji had made vague excuses and left. Yusuke hadn’t believed a word they were saying. It was clear he wasn’t meant to.

The night was clear and bright. Everything was quiet, because this was a quiet neighbourhood, and it was even more so at night. Yusuke did not break the silence for a very long time, as he searched inside himself for what to say. He had to say something, he knew he did – but what?

Eventually, he worked it out.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Kaito said. “Anyone would’ve freaked out in this situation.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you.” Yusuke took a deep breath. “After seeing that _place_ , I think I can believe anything you tell me.”

“Yeah, the Palace is a bit strange.” Kaito chuckled. “I’d say you get used to it after a while, but you don’t. That’s the fun part.”

“Fun, hm?”

“Oh, come on. You felt it. Your Persona, what was it – Goemon?” Kaito grinned and rolled his shoulders. “When you summon your Persona, you feel _invincible_ and _free._ And if you can improve the world and your own life in the process, well, that’s just the icing on the cake.”

“That does sound fun.”

“Want to join us?”

Yusuke stopped in his tracks. Kaito stopped with him, going bright red.

“I – was that too forward?”

“No… not at all.” Yusuke smiled, feeling his face heat up. “If you want me, still.”

“Of course I do!” Kaito went even redder. “What I mean is, regardless of – um – personal history, I’m not about to deny you…”

“So you _do_ still want me?”

Kaito’s jaw dropped. He pulled it back into place.

“Since I am a gentleman,” he said, “I’m giving you a warning: I am about to kiss you.”

He crossed the space between them in a single stride and took Yusuke in his arms, cupping his jaw in one hand and supporting his back with the other. As he pressed his lips to Yusuke’s, he dipped the other boy, making Yusuke gasp into the kiss. Yusuke quickly flung his arms around Kaito’s neck for support, and kissed back, feeling laughter bubble in his chest.

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Kaito pulled away and set Yusuke back onto his feet. Both of them had flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Well, you’ve certainly taken _my_ heart,” Yusuke said.

Kaito laughed. “That was the plan.”

They continued their walk in near-silence, side-by-side, hands intertwined and shoulders brushing. Yusuke knew that if his neighbours saw, their tongues would never stop wagging. He didn’t care. He was happy, for the first time in a while, and no one was going to take that away from him.

Soon, they were in front of Madarame’s house. Yusuke felt sick just looking at it.

“…What exactly has he been doing?” Yusuke asked.

“He’s involved in smuggling, arms, that sort of thing,” Kaito replied truthfully. “It’s all pretty nasty and dangerous stuff.”

“You know, I’ve looked up to him my entire life. But I can’t forgive this.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kaito said. “Seriously, if you want to help… we’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Yusuke felt his heart skip a beat. Even in that ridiculous manga, he’d never dreamed of this much!

“That… sounds fun. No. Wonderful.”

\--

High above the Tokyo streets, two figures stood upon a skyscraper. One wore white, the other wore black. They weren’t meant to be up there, but neither of them were fond of rules. All they wanted was to be alone together. This just happened to be the most private place they’d found.

Yusuke rested his cheek against Kaito’s shoulder, tired but alert, and wholly content. Kaito squeezed Yusuke’s shoulder and kissed his forehead, entirely happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Thanks for being patient with me for this chapter, exams suck. This was ridiculously fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed it!


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